You're Doing Well For Yourself

“But I saw the pain and sadness in everything, and swirled it round my mouth like a fine wine.” – Emma Forrest, Your Voice in My Head

I have been most exhausted lately – desperately wanting to get my thoughts out of my head and found myself brain dead by the end of the week. So I’m making an attempt now. I miss the days of my youth when I could simply drop everything I was doing and write to my heart’s content in complete solitude.

Such a magically soothing thing . . . . yet I rarely hand write anymore. Blast!

I visited Jefe a couple of weeks ago. I stumbled upon him moving rocks in his landscaped pond. I let Merlin run loose and helped him for a while. We chatted about what was taking place in our individual lives. I mentioned the suggestion of a friend to purchase patio furniture and scoffed at the idea because I know I won’t be able to buy something like that for a very long time. Jefe told me I’ve done very well for myself. Inwardly I scoffed at the thought because I don't think I'm doing particularly well at anything. That was the first of many recurring instances regarding my own inner voice. I’ll come back to that later.

When all rocks and boulders had been placed aside, I packed up and readied myself to leave. It was then that my brother drove up the driveway with the She Devil.

The She Devil leaves destruction and disarray in her wake. 

I stopped and chatted for a while. She Devil asked about my blogumentary project. I told her about my most recent entry that was about my sister and how badly I felt for this person I haven’t seen in so long because she never really stood a chance at life. Unlike my dearest sister, Jenny, I had the privilege of a solid foundation during the early years of my life.

She Devil immediately responded with this, People need to just get over it. That’s when I stabbed her with my scissors.

Of course, there was no stabbing, but I’m still left in disbelief over such a calloused response regarding someone who has experienced some very dark things in life. At the time, I was enraged . .  . and these are the moments I really should speak my true feelings. She Devil knows absolutely nothing of Jenny. She Devil needs to get over herself.

I’ve come to the conclusion that She Devil hides behind her defined success in life (she has lots of money). For whatever reason, she thinks it’s okay to say hurtful things, cast judgement and even insults just because she has money. I suppose it’s fine to be an awful person provided that one can buy his or her way through life and donate to charity to ease their conscious if he or she even has one to begin with.

Her attitude towards others, her self-centeredness and blatant lack of empathy are appalling in my eyes. I sometimes wonder if she even has a soul.

The week that followed seemed like the perfect storm. I was sad, things kept doing wrong, one of my co-workers kinda blew up at me and was being particularly beastly for that week and I felt the weight of guilt. I felt guilt that I had something so precious – and Jenny never experienced unconditional love, particularly from a parent.

I had a couple of days in which I simply couldn’t stop crying.

I went out with a friend for wine at the end of that week. I was exhausted and overly emotional due to the thoughts on my mind. My amazing friend always has sound advice for me and she and her husband have looked out for me since the day I met them. I feel blessed to know them.

Actually . . . . she's practically my therapist. 

My dear friend listened as I explained the events of the week. She offered perspective and validation on some of the things in life that make me just plain angry. When talking about my interaction with my co-worker I said in exasperation, She bullies like Lindsay. My dear friend gave me a knowing look – one that told me I had now found the key to unlock the secrets of the Universe itself.

I hate to mention names, but I had to point out that there have been a several like Lindsay throughout my entire life and most of them have a name that start with an ‘L’: Laura, Lenora, Wendy, and, of course, Lindsay.

It struck me that their voice has become my own. Their words which criticized and caused self-doubt have become my words as well. The thoughts I think towards and about myself tend to be awful. I’ve allowed my inner voice to become a cancerous entity running rampant in my psyche.  This voice tells me I’m not good enough, I’m not pretty enough, I don’t try hard enough. This voice tells me I am not enough and my existence on this earth is questionable. This voice tells me I am underserving of anything good, and every single bad event in my life was the result of some form of karma because I truly am an awful person.

I imagine my inner voice probably looks something like this. 

I’m often told to be kinder to myself. The truth is, I just don’t know how to be nicer to me. I don’t know how to turn off the voice, either. I can only hope that by acknowledging that this voice exists that I can begin to ignore it and perhaps it will fade out over time.

I have been doing so much better with life in general now that I've started cutting people out of it who don't deserve my time or energy. There are still a few remaining. She Devil is most certainly one of them. I haven't figured out how to break that off. I don't know if there's a graceful way to just walk away and still be able to maintain contact with Jefe and my brother. What I do know is that her presence in my life is not a good one and I have to change that or continue to allow myself to be damaged by it. 

“Come away, O human child!

To the waters and the wild

With a faery, hand and hand,

For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.”

-          W.B. Yeats

Facebook, Riots and Social Movement

“If someone isn’t what others want them to be, others become angry. Everyone seems to have a clear idea of how other people should leave their lives, but none about his or her own.” Paul Coelho, The Alchemist

Might I also add judging any group whatsoever with blanket statements speaks volumes about one's character as well.

A classmate from junior high posted something on facebook. It was a long status post pertaining to her feeling of worth being linked to how tidy she keeps her home (she’s a stay at home mom) and the number she sees on the scale. She then came to the conclusion that these are trivial things, because she is the righteousness in Jesus Christ and this is where her real worth is.

On a side note before I continue, is claiming to be the righteousness of Christ a new movement in Christianity? If so, that concept is a bit concerning to me. I don’t think anyone needs additional reasons to be filled with their own sense of smug self-righteousness because their lives and choices are far superior to that of anyone else within existence.

Back to my backstory:

Her words got under my skin – and I’ll honestly explain why that is. This former classmate of mine and I were on the cheer squad together. I was out practicing with my fellow teammates when she walked up to me and said, “My mom said you’re going to be wild when you grow up.”

What. The. Hell?!

I was all of 12 years old and being judged by a fully grown adult, those words parroted back to me by the woman’s daughter. These words were spoken by a fully grown woman who had never even met me. She’d probably heard stories of my background, because that small town was full of gossips – and the stories of my young life didn’t fit the cookie cutter image that woman had in mind. I didn’t have parents. No doubt I drove them both to suicide because I was wild from birth. Hell, those idiots probably even had me pegged as a drug user because my mother was an addict. Ha!

To Women in particular: JUST STOP!

The facebook post irritated me for several reasons. The first and foremost being that it brought that unpleasant memory to surface. These are the things in life that I don’t like to think about. Additionally, that gal’s mother couldn’t have been further from the truth. A single woman living alone with her basset hound . . . . that is quite wild indeed.

Why do we struggle with our self-worth to begin with? The process begins early on in life, when we’re given labels, when we are judged, when our life experiences cause us to ponder the value of our very existence. To boot, women consistently put down other women. I’ve seen grown women do it to young girls and I’ve experienced that myself.

I am, by no means, saying I'm above this nonsense myself. I pick on my fellow female clan - and I reserve that snark for a special kind of gal: the ones who are awful to me and others simply for the sake of being awful. Does that make me any better? Not really. If I give myself credit for anything at all it's this: I don't rip someone to shreds without knowing them, without being wronged by them, without witnessing an abhorrent action made on their part.

Actually . . . . It's ALWAYS out of spite. 

A wonderful young lady in my life (she’s 15) makes typical, idiotic life decisions from time to time. We all do it. This is part of our growing process. I would never label her as dumb, boy crazy, attention seeker, dramatic, etc. Those are harmful things to say to another human being, and knowing firsthand how hurtful such things can be, I refuse to perpetuate the cycle and knock her down because I feel inadequate in my aging body, no longer have the luxury of the freedom of youth, and didn’t have nearly as much as this young lady is given. These are not insecurities I share with her, either. She needs the example of a strong, self-centered adult in her life and I’m doing my best to provide it in whatever way I can.

She's fighting for others already - My greatest hope is that she learns to do that for herself. 

So, this facebook post made me want to remind my former classmate of those words she said to me on her mother’s behalf. I never said a word to her because I know my anger comes from a place of wanting to inflict injury simply because I was injured by her. It would be a pointless action that wouldn’t benefit anyone.

Onto a similar topic: judgements I’ve experienced aside, America is the freaking capital of labels! It has been for some time and this is something that has been on my mind for quite a while. There is civil unrest in Baltimore. What was striking to me was the labeling of the photos displayed by the media. The populations captured within the photos are mostly black. Most of the aforementioned photo captions describe rioting rather than civil unrest, protest, civil disobedience, demonstration, or any word relating to such things. Wind the clock back to 1999 to the Seattle WTO shenanigans. The fucking city was set on fire and property was destroyed. How does the media describe mob actions made by a predominantly white crowd? Demonstration, protest and social movement.

Remember Occupy? That's also touted as a social movement. 

I hope that screams loudly in your mind, as it does in mine. We claim racism is eradicated. Clearly it’s not. Clearly we still have a long way to go. Just this year alone America has experienced Ferguson, Baltimore, and, just in April, the shooting of an unarmed black man in North Charleston, S.C. The unarmed man’s name was Walter Scott. If you’ve seen the video, you’re probably just as appalled as I am. I don’t understand how this useless violence can continue. I don’t understand why it’s ever been allowed to happen in the first place.

Literally the first image that popped up after Googling 'Baltimore Riots'. Clearly this crowd is up to no good.

What is more worrisome to me (as if the violence weren’t enough), is the tendency of many I hear speak on this topic claim that there’s nothing wrong. I sometimes wonder if the people I know in my life actually pay attention to the words they speak. A friend of mine and I were talking about Baltimore recently. She told me the riotous violence only gives credence to the rest of America’s opinion that the black population has a tendency towards violence. Her point being that Martin Luther King, Jr. enacted change by his insistence on peaceful protests. When I think of what he was trying to achieve for his community and what is happening now . . . . I feel as if we’ve taken far too many steps backwards. The words of my friend were troublesome to me.

We desperately need someone like this now. To be honest, I'd say we need many. 

When I hear anyone deny that there’s a problem, it comes from the lips of someone who has had no experience in life other than the privilege of being a white American. I don’t pretend to even begin to understand what the African American community is experiencing, but I do promise that I’m trying.

The blatant racism of America is something I don’t talk about much, because it weighs heavy on my heart. The cycle of hatred towards self and others starts within us. Racism is a very real and tangible thing. I think the best first step we can take is acknowledging that it does exist. 

I'm kind of in love with this picture.