What the single life buys me:
1. I can sleep diagonally in my bed anytime
2. I can go to bed whenever I want (actually had an ex who would expect us to go to bed at
the same time, gotta say, I never understood that one)
3. I can sleep on the couch if I feel like it, not because I have to (Sleep is very important to me)
4. I don't have to get up when you get up either
5. I can stay "ugly" all day long, pjs and no makeup, bring it on
6. And no shower because who's gonna smell me
7. Shaving, forget it
8. I don't have to compromise on what I want to eat
9. Or where I want to eat
10. Or when I want to eat (food is also very important to me)
11. Having an "individual" bank account rocks; Because
12. I don't have to hide spur of the moment buys
13. I don't have to save to buy you corny, made-up holiday gifts
14. I don't have to hide gifts so you won't find them
15. I don't have to pretend to like the gifts that you didn't think too hard over buying me
16. I don't have to help you with bills
17. I will never again have that sick feeling where you wonder whether or you will quit your job and make our lives a struggle because I take care of my own sh**
18. I don't have to share, anything, ever. Not my car, my money, my food, my bed, my hot water
19. I can use all of the hot water in the shower, or bath
20. I can stay in the shower or the bath as long as I want to
21. I can leave the door open when I go to the bathroom without regret
22. Lord, I don't have to pretend to like your friends! hallelujiah
23. I don't have to pretend your jokes are funny when they're clearly sexist or so completey close minded that it actually astonishes me
24. I only have to pick out my own clothes
25. I never have to hear "you're wearing that to my family's" ever again
26. When I work overtime, because I'm like that, I don't have to be on the defensive as to my whereabouts
27. I can get up and go wherever I want, whenever I want, with whomever I want (or do nothing at all because that sounds way more like me)
28. I can gain weight and not feel guilty
29. I can donate my life insurance to a worthy cause instead of having to leave it to you
30. I don't need legally signed permission to add a non-spouse as a beneficiary to any existing financial account I may have
31. I can blow my whole tax return all by myself if I want
32. I can binge on chick flicks for days at a time
33. I can leave my phone face up wherever I go
34. I don't blow up my friends' facebook with sickly pictures of us pretending to be over the top happy
35. I don't have to watch you be upset if I get sick again
36. I can have a perfectly normal feminine meltdown without concern for your safety
37. I can accept free drinks
38. I don't get woken up, with anything sticking in my back
39. My shampoo and conditioner last me twice as long!
40. My dishes can sit until I need them for survival
41. I can throw away my "lady-like" card any time I want to
42. Silence, any place, any time I want it, it's mine
43. There are no pety anniversaries to remember
44. I don't have to pretend to like basketball
45. I can root for the football team of my choosing!
46. My underwear can come from walmart (if I shopped there but I don't)
47. I don't have to worry about your medical history (one ex had his very first seizure on me driving down the interstate at 6 am, that was not fun)
48. I won't be pressured by your family to have beautiful little grandbabies for them
49. We won't fight over who's family's house we're going to for the holidays
50. There is no fighting!!!
And this is just the beginning. Spoiler, I started with my favorite :)
Monday, January 25, 2016
Sunday, January 24, 2016
How Music Gave Me Strength
I was lucky. I was born into an era when women were allowed to speak their minds without much in the way of "excessive" criticism. They methods by which they have done so over the years has changed dramatically; initially women's magazines created a sense of community among women who didn't get out of the house much. Later, when women were allowed to receive an education regularly, books and letters became a popular medium. One forum to which we have always had access, though, was music. Initially, women's subject matter revolved solely around love, romantic love, and the void that existed without it and the genre was entirely adult contemporary love songs. Music has remained one of the greatest outlets a woman has had to express herself, regardless of what she is expressing; but luckily for me, when I was born, music was changing.
For years, men sang songs about anything and everything under the sun. Frank Sinatra, "I Did it My Way," Elvis, "Jailhouse Rock," Johnny Cash, "Folsom Prison," "Money, Sweet Home Alabama, Smokin in the Boys' Room," I mean this list could last for all of eternity. But when we turn to the music put out by the women in comparable generations, two things become very apparent: 1. There are by and large only a small percentage of women singers when compared to men, and 2. Women's music was always about love. Finding love, losing love, looking for love, surviving love. Even when you had the occasional icon who possessed the guts to go against the grain, for instance, Janis Joplin, before it was popular to do so, she still sang about losing love, even though she was tough enough to handle it. This was, though, a forward motion. She dared the one who hurt her to "take another piece of my heart." Love was life for women. Identified and vocalized in 1963 by Betty Friedan in controversial book The Feminine Mystique, as she studied throughout the 1950s, the entire purpose of a woman's life was to catch a man solid enough for husbandry, in order for her to become a wife and mother. As if one role wasn't enough. If a woman was encouraged to go to college or trade school by her family, it was to nab herself a better class of man so that her life could take an upward turn. She would be better taken care of by a man with an education.
But right around that time, when women's' voices began to crack, mics were turned up louder, and different themes came out to play, the role of a woman in the world took on a new look as her expressions became accessible anywhere, anytime, through her music. Though many people consider Aretha Franklin's "Respect," and iconic song for her era, a woman demanding respect, the lyrics actually paint the picture of a woman begging her man to stop cheating, stop lying, stop running around. Come home at night to me, give me a little respect, and I'll give you everything I have. Don't want to believe me? Give the lyrics a read through. "I'm about to give you all my money, all I'm asking for is a little respect, when you get home." She doesn't even ask him to come home right away, just when you do, be nice to me please. This is not the movement we needed to make. Shortly thereafter, we began to get some stronger voices, from women demanding a life of her own, and melodically declaring there was more to life than landing a man.
Stevie Nicks, I might swear she changed everything for us. Stevie Nicks had the gull to sing about herself, her power, her life, her wants, damn near 40 years ago, as she led a group of mostly men to the forefront of the music industry. Her mere presence allotted us a step forward. She didn't constantly drone on and on about needing someone by her side. In fact, when she did sing about love or relationships at all, she was in charge!! What a concept. "Silver Springs" declares that "you will never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you," almost as if to say, you, the man, will be the one who suffers, I, the woman, will be fine. "Gypsie," a personal favorite, talks about a woman's power to walk away, live her own life without the presence of a man. The video ends with a group of females in a utopia, in an array of colors and lights, while the men remain traditional, suited up, and in black and white. "Rhiannon," declared to be about a bonafide witch, taking claim back over the term and presenting it as something to be desired. Rumors began about Nicks herself being a witch, something she's denied only once, then allowed the gossip train to run. In 2014, she played the role of a "white witch," as herself, on the tv series American Horror Story; a legendary one at that, one who the other witches looked up to for years and saw as an icon.
Soon after, bands like Heart, Joan Jett, singers like Annie Lennox, Madonna, Janet Jackson introduced women to an entirely new arena of what it can mean to be female. "Bad Animal," by Heart, states that "(I) Got to swim upstream, got a rebel seed." Janet Jackson came out with "Rhythm Nation," a song that brought all people together, men and women, black and white, to "break the color lines; Let's work together to improve our way of life." Madonna, a beast in her own right, focused on the woman's perspective almost entirely. With songs like "Material Girl, Express Yourself, Who's That Girl," she put the female view at the forefront, showing women that it was not only okay to have an opinion, but that you should own that opinion and make yourself visible because of it. Not only did she take strides with women's roles in her songs, but also in her physical presence in the industry itself, almost demanding confrontation with every stigma held against her.
And then the 90s came. Rage girl defied all logic and songs became about patronizing the lovey-dovey icons we were used to and becoming our own women. To start the decade off right, "I'm Just A Girl," by No Doubt, androgynous Gwen Stefani facetiously reminds us that being a "girl" is just as good as being a guy. Starting with making everything pink for us from birth, all the way up to the legal rights we still don't have, she sarcastically points out that we still look at being a girl as a position of weakness. She says she's sick of it, gone numb, and not giving in anymore, all the while, playing with a band of men to back her up. Stefani is easily one of the greatest female musical icons women have ever had in the fight for gender or relationship equality. Married to a man of equal hype, she marched on with her own career, had children, and never stopped singing about the life she enjoyed. Her music was always whimsical and topical, and while she sprinkled in songs like "Don't Speak," to remind us of our occasional vulnerability, she always came out on top.
Alanis Morissette, however, will remain the voice of a generation. In 1994, the lives of women and young girls changed forever. "You Outta Know," came out of nowhere and told us that we had permission to be loud, vengeful, angry, and proud of it. No one will be better than me, she let us know; and with the imagery of the video, not clearly showing her face, blurring the entire video as if to remark that appearances aren't relevant, romping around in a dusty desert, changing out of her feminine dress and heals into a white suite and tennis shoes, and later into, of all colors, a blue shirt, and combat boots, Morissette comes out of the park swinging in the face of femininity and love, cussing it out and telling us we're better than that; it's not a requirement for us to live. We can hitchhike and walk the road alone, as she does throughout the video. Her career continues on with the majority of her songs being about universal love, charity, indifference, religion, change, and learning your way through life; the minority of her music focuses on the volunteerism regarding romantic love. Songs like, "21 Things I Want in A Lover, Are You Still Mad, and Right Through You," keep Morissette in control of the role that romantic love plays in her life, when it does at all.
Today, singers like Kelly Clarkson, Lady Gaga, Pink, and so many others, allow women to be whatever type of individual they choose. Clarkson has taken a stand against Hollywood and the entire music industry around the ideals of what a woman is supposed to look like after gaining a few pounds and having a child. Her career has ran for over a decade at full force and she has literally told them to fuck off, she will do what she wants. While her music is more on the traditional side of femininity, she still takes a path of "since you've been gone, I've been free for the first time," as well as songs like, "Breakaway," and "Stronger," sustaining her spot as a genuine female icon for the ages.
Lady Gaga, with "Born This Way," and a plethora of others you may as well simply list all of her titles, adamantly declares that everyone is important and everything matters. Love is one emotion, not the only emotion, and we should use it often and give it away freely. She fantastically and outrageously demands that she will not succumb to traditional roles, and that her fans, her "monsters," need to take control of their identity and be whomever they truly are. Conformity is not an option. In this season's American Horror Story, she performs a makeover on a man who firmly believes he is a woman, and allows him to live out his notions of gender and sexuality in her world, as a woman. Though it's a character she simply played on tv, it seemed a little like typecasting. Gaga has carved out an entirely new path for any person to walk along, and visibly created a new mold for the likes of love and sexuality. She has taken onlookers to a new level of individuality; so like her or not, her uniqueness is one for the record books. She made it to the top, and she did it "her way."
Pink, possibly the strongest of them all, has gone so far as to playing the male role in her videos, declared herself a rockstar in spite of rejection, and told the world she's "fucked because I live a life of sin." She has let women know that they are "fucking perfect" just the way they are, that she will send a man home alone with his hand before she will bow down to his needs, and questioned how powerful we can become as a group in "Are We All We Are;" a song where she declared that it took her "four (years) to get through the lesson that I had to do it all my own. Three, that's how many Hail Mary's they would pray for me thinkin' I was gonna end up all alone." In true militant style, Pink salutes the crowd in her performance, noting that stereotypes expect a man to carry her, but in her reality, they, her fans, the crowd, are one, and they will all make it together in this life, regardless of their status.
At one point in the new millennium, even Christina Aguilera took part in smiting love for a stronger role in her song, "Fighter." Getting down and dirty in the video and playing to images that keep men attracted to her "style" didn't take anything away from the fact that she waved the middle finger to those who tried to hurt her. As the strongest of women do, she took the high road, pointing out the flaws of contemporary love, "After all of the stealing and cheating you probably think that I hold resentment for you, but oh no, you're wrong. 'Cause if it wasn't for all that you tried to do, I wouldn't know just how capable I am to pull through so I wanna say thank you cause it makes me that much stronger," and continues on to the benefits she gained from a stale encounter.
Even in the immediate present, singers like Jessie J and Sia are continuing the good fight with songs like "Masterpiece," where JJ tells the world how incredible she is in style, and though she's not perfect, she damn sure is good enough, and will keep getting better, while Sia tells us that "you did not break me, I'm still fighting for peace." We have women to lead us into a future that is void of demands for incredibly specific types of relationships. These women have sang to me for decades; I am so thankful that I have listened.
Music is only one aspect of our culture that impacts the way we envision our world. It has always been very prevalent in mine, however. Music is a necessity for my sanity. As Bob Marley once said, "the thing about music is, once it hits you, you feel no pain." Music is a powerful tool to help us through anything. It allows you to channel the emotions of another human being, expressing themselves in one of the most powerful ways, and experience a level of catharsis you wouldn't know how to access otherwise. Music alleviates your pain for you, heightens your awareness of experiences and perspectives you may have never known about, and deepens the emotions and stance you have decided to take on a particular issue because it connects us to one another. The way Betty Freidan pointed out that magazines once created a community for women to share the lifestyles they led in such a disconnected way, music now has entered an era where people who have never met embrace one another and create communities of new expectations and ideals. And with the women I have listened to over the years, the music that I have been drawn to, has allowed me to understand that I am good enough, complete even, on my own. So where music can bring us together, it can also tell us that we don't have to be part of something to be beautiful. We are complete entities, entirely our own.
More and more, we receive images of women with careers and kids, careers and no kids, kids and no career, marriage and career and kids, marriage and career and no kids, and the gamut of combinations on lifestyle choices, because we have entered an era where those choices are now fully available to us, with limited judgment. I say limited for a reason. I still hear it all the time. "When are you going to have kids?" "I have someone to fix you up with." "Why don't you want to get married, again?" It's incessant. And it's incredibly annoying. Have I not proven it enough to the people in my life that I am strong enough to make a decision about my interpersonal relationships with limited interference? That is what astounds me so; in all other areas of my life, I have been found to be intimidating, scary, standoff-ish, and a thousand other words, to such a degree that people don't approach me about most things until they have gotten the opportunity to get to know me. However, as strong as that personality trait is of mine, the stigma of a woman and man being together, happily ever after, is so much more powerful that vague strangers have the gull to ask me about my relationship status. These people believe they know what is best for me. Why? Because for the last couple millennia, women have been told that their purpose revolves around the pleasure of a man. We are here to serve. From biblical reports of being created from a man, to laws regulating domestic abuse through the 1960s, women have been conditioned to believe that alone, they are lost.
Contemporary musicians are encouraging us to look for a different answer. Beyoncé says today that girls run the world. Even Grace has remade the classic, "You Don't Own Me," with a modern twist, a man interrupting her, telling her he's good enough for her to settle down. She continues to refuse. Finally he realizes, "she will never, ever, ever be owned." It's about time someone said it out loud. The fact that it is a male rapper is just icing on the cake.
My declaration isn't that love is a terrible thing. Love is incredible when used for the right purposes; and in that regard, it should be used all the time, toward everyone. Love has been so widely discussed because of its universality. We all understand the need and the desire to have it in our lives. Maybe if we began treating one another as divine creatures, worthy of unconditional love, rather than judging the deservedness of romantic love, we would all begin to benefit and find happiness with ourselves. Women in music have figured this out, and they have taught the lesson to at least one of their listeners. They're telling us we're perfect the way we are, and that we should find out what type of life we want, and simply create it. That's been my plan all along. Love has gotten in the way a few times. Promises of intermittent joy don't make up for the time I have lost looking for my smile in another person's spirit. Frankly, I think it's a lot easier to find those smiles inside of yourself. No one knows you better than you, ultimately you have the upper hand in your happiness. If you get stuck, have a bad day, or just feel down about yourself for any reason, turn on some iconic chick rock and listen with your spirit. In the words of Jessie J, remember your worth; "I still fall on my face sometimes and I can't colour inside the lines, cause I'm perfectly incomplete; I'm still working on my masterpiece."
For years, men sang songs about anything and everything under the sun. Frank Sinatra, "I Did it My Way," Elvis, "Jailhouse Rock," Johnny Cash, "Folsom Prison," "Money, Sweet Home Alabama, Smokin in the Boys' Room," I mean this list could last for all of eternity. But when we turn to the music put out by the women in comparable generations, two things become very apparent: 1. There are by and large only a small percentage of women singers when compared to men, and 2. Women's music was always about love. Finding love, losing love, looking for love, surviving love. Even when you had the occasional icon who possessed the guts to go against the grain, for instance, Janis Joplin, before it was popular to do so, she still sang about losing love, even though she was tough enough to handle it. This was, though, a forward motion. She dared the one who hurt her to "take another piece of my heart." Love was life for women. Identified and vocalized in 1963 by Betty Friedan in controversial book The Feminine Mystique, as she studied throughout the 1950s, the entire purpose of a woman's life was to catch a man solid enough for husbandry, in order for her to become a wife and mother. As if one role wasn't enough. If a woman was encouraged to go to college or trade school by her family, it was to nab herself a better class of man so that her life could take an upward turn. She would be better taken care of by a man with an education.
But right around that time, when women's' voices began to crack, mics were turned up louder, and different themes came out to play, the role of a woman in the world took on a new look as her expressions became accessible anywhere, anytime, through her music. Though many people consider Aretha Franklin's "Respect," and iconic song for her era, a woman demanding respect, the lyrics actually paint the picture of a woman begging her man to stop cheating, stop lying, stop running around. Come home at night to me, give me a little respect, and I'll give you everything I have. Don't want to believe me? Give the lyrics a read through. "I'm about to give you all my money, all I'm asking for is a little respect, when you get home." She doesn't even ask him to come home right away, just when you do, be nice to me please. This is not the movement we needed to make. Shortly thereafter, we began to get some stronger voices, from women demanding a life of her own, and melodically declaring there was more to life than landing a man.
Stevie Nicks, I might swear she changed everything for us. Stevie Nicks had the gull to sing about herself, her power, her life, her wants, damn near 40 years ago, as she led a group of mostly men to the forefront of the music industry. Her mere presence allotted us a step forward. She didn't constantly drone on and on about needing someone by her side. In fact, when she did sing about love or relationships at all, she was in charge!! What a concept. "Silver Springs" declares that "you will never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you," almost as if to say, you, the man, will be the one who suffers, I, the woman, will be fine. "Gypsie," a personal favorite, talks about a woman's power to walk away, live her own life without the presence of a man. The video ends with a group of females in a utopia, in an array of colors and lights, while the men remain traditional, suited up, and in black and white. "Rhiannon," declared to be about a bonafide witch, taking claim back over the term and presenting it as something to be desired. Rumors began about Nicks herself being a witch, something she's denied only once, then allowed the gossip train to run. In 2014, she played the role of a "white witch," as herself, on the tv series American Horror Story; a legendary one at that, one who the other witches looked up to for years and saw as an icon.
Soon after, bands like Heart, Joan Jett, singers like Annie Lennox, Madonna, Janet Jackson introduced women to an entirely new arena of what it can mean to be female. "Bad Animal," by Heart, states that "(I) Got to swim upstream, got a rebel seed." Janet Jackson came out with "Rhythm Nation," a song that brought all people together, men and women, black and white, to "break the color lines; Let's work together to improve our way of life." Madonna, a beast in her own right, focused on the woman's perspective almost entirely. With songs like "Material Girl, Express Yourself, Who's That Girl," she put the female view at the forefront, showing women that it was not only okay to have an opinion, but that you should own that opinion and make yourself visible because of it. Not only did she take strides with women's roles in her songs, but also in her physical presence in the industry itself, almost demanding confrontation with every stigma held against her.
And then the 90s came. Rage girl defied all logic and songs became about patronizing the lovey-dovey icons we were used to and becoming our own women. To start the decade off right, "I'm Just A Girl," by No Doubt, androgynous Gwen Stefani facetiously reminds us that being a "girl" is just as good as being a guy. Starting with making everything pink for us from birth, all the way up to the legal rights we still don't have, she sarcastically points out that we still look at being a girl as a position of weakness. She says she's sick of it, gone numb, and not giving in anymore, all the while, playing with a band of men to back her up. Stefani is easily one of the greatest female musical icons women have ever had in the fight for gender or relationship equality. Married to a man of equal hype, she marched on with her own career, had children, and never stopped singing about the life she enjoyed. Her music was always whimsical and topical, and while she sprinkled in songs like "Don't Speak," to remind us of our occasional vulnerability, she always came out on top.
Alanis Morissette, however, will remain the voice of a generation. In 1994, the lives of women and young girls changed forever. "You Outta Know," came out of nowhere and told us that we had permission to be loud, vengeful, angry, and proud of it. No one will be better than me, she let us know; and with the imagery of the video, not clearly showing her face, blurring the entire video as if to remark that appearances aren't relevant, romping around in a dusty desert, changing out of her feminine dress and heals into a white suite and tennis shoes, and later into, of all colors, a blue shirt, and combat boots, Morissette comes out of the park swinging in the face of femininity and love, cussing it out and telling us we're better than that; it's not a requirement for us to live. We can hitchhike and walk the road alone, as she does throughout the video. Her career continues on with the majority of her songs being about universal love, charity, indifference, religion, change, and learning your way through life; the minority of her music focuses on the volunteerism regarding romantic love. Songs like, "21 Things I Want in A Lover, Are You Still Mad, and Right Through You," keep Morissette in control of the role that romantic love plays in her life, when it does at all.
Today, singers like Kelly Clarkson, Lady Gaga, Pink, and so many others, allow women to be whatever type of individual they choose. Clarkson has taken a stand against Hollywood and the entire music industry around the ideals of what a woman is supposed to look like after gaining a few pounds and having a child. Her career has ran for over a decade at full force and she has literally told them to fuck off, she will do what she wants. While her music is more on the traditional side of femininity, she still takes a path of "since you've been gone, I've been free for the first time," as well as songs like, "Breakaway," and "Stronger," sustaining her spot as a genuine female icon for the ages.
Lady Gaga, with "Born This Way," and a plethora of others you may as well simply list all of her titles, adamantly declares that everyone is important and everything matters. Love is one emotion, not the only emotion, and we should use it often and give it away freely. She fantastically and outrageously demands that she will not succumb to traditional roles, and that her fans, her "monsters," need to take control of their identity and be whomever they truly are. Conformity is not an option. In this season's American Horror Story, she performs a makeover on a man who firmly believes he is a woman, and allows him to live out his notions of gender and sexuality in her world, as a woman. Though it's a character she simply played on tv, it seemed a little like typecasting. Gaga has carved out an entirely new path for any person to walk along, and visibly created a new mold for the likes of love and sexuality. She has taken onlookers to a new level of individuality; so like her or not, her uniqueness is one for the record books. She made it to the top, and she did it "her way."
Pink, possibly the strongest of them all, has gone so far as to playing the male role in her videos, declared herself a rockstar in spite of rejection, and told the world she's "fucked because I live a life of sin." She has let women know that they are "fucking perfect" just the way they are, that she will send a man home alone with his hand before she will bow down to his needs, and questioned how powerful we can become as a group in "Are We All We Are;" a song where she declared that it took her "four (years) to get through the lesson that I had to do it all my own. Three, that's how many Hail Mary's they would pray for me thinkin' I was gonna end up all alone." In true militant style, Pink salutes the crowd in her performance, noting that stereotypes expect a man to carry her, but in her reality, they, her fans, the crowd, are one, and they will all make it together in this life, regardless of their status.
At one point in the new millennium, even Christina Aguilera took part in smiting love for a stronger role in her song, "Fighter." Getting down and dirty in the video and playing to images that keep men attracted to her "style" didn't take anything away from the fact that she waved the middle finger to those who tried to hurt her. As the strongest of women do, she took the high road, pointing out the flaws of contemporary love, "After all of the stealing and cheating you probably think that I hold resentment for you, but oh no, you're wrong. 'Cause if it wasn't for all that you tried to do, I wouldn't know just how capable I am to pull through so I wanna say thank you cause it makes me that much stronger," and continues on to the benefits she gained from a stale encounter.
Even in the immediate present, singers like Jessie J and Sia are continuing the good fight with songs like "Masterpiece," where JJ tells the world how incredible she is in style, and though she's not perfect, she damn sure is good enough, and will keep getting better, while Sia tells us that "you did not break me, I'm still fighting for peace." We have women to lead us into a future that is void of demands for incredibly specific types of relationships. These women have sang to me for decades; I am so thankful that I have listened.
Music is only one aspect of our culture that impacts the way we envision our world. It has always been very prevalent in mine, however. Music is a necessity for my sanity. As Bob Marley once said, "the thing about music is, once it hits you, you feel no pain." Music is a powerful tool to help us through anything. It allows you to channel the emotions of another human being, expressing themselves in one of the most powerful ways, and experience a level of catharsis you wouldn't know how to access otherwise. Music alleviates your pain for you, heightens your awareness of experiences and perspectives you may have never known about, and deepens the emotions and stance you have decided to take on a particular issue because it connects us to one another. The way Betty Freidan pointed out that magazines once created a community for women to share the lifestyles they led in such a disconnected way, music now has entered an era where people who have never met embrace one another and create communities of new expectations and ideals. And with the women I have listened to over the years, the music that I have been drawn to, has allowed me to understand that I am good enough, complete even, on my own. So where music can bring us together, it can also tell us that we don't have to be part of something to be beautiful. We are complete entities, entirely our own.
More and more, we receive images of women with careers and kids, careers and no kids, kids and no career, marriage and career and kids, marriage and career and no kids, and the gamut of combinations on lifestyle choices, because we have entered an era where those choices are now fully available to us, with limited judgment. I say limited for a reason. I still hear it all the time. "When are you going to have kids?" "I have someone to fix you up with." "Why don't you want to get married, again?" It's incessant. And it's incredibly annoying. Have I not proven it enough to the people in my life that I am strong enough to make a decision about my interpersonal relationships with limited interference? That is what astounds me so; in all other areas of my life, I have been found to be intimidating, scary, standoff-ish, and a thousand other words, to such a degree that people don't approach me about most things until they have gotten the opportunity to get to know me. However, as strong as that personality trait is of mine, the stigma of a woman and man being together, happily ever after, is so much more powerful that vague strangers have the gull to ask me about my relationship status. These people believe they know what is best for me. Why? Because for the last couple millennia, women have been told that their purpose revolves around the pleasure of a man. We are here to serve. From biblical reports of being created from a man, to laws regulating domestic abuse through the 1960s, women have been conditioned to believe that alone, they are lost.
Contemporary musicians are encouraging us to look for a different answer. Beyoncé says today that girls run the world. Even Grace has remade the classic, "You Don't Own Me," with a modern twist, a man interrupting her, telling her he's good enough for her to settle down. She continues to refuse. Finally he realizes, "she will never, ever, ever be owned." It's about time someone said it out loud. The fact that it is a male rapper is just icing on the cake.
My declaration isn't that love is a terrible thing. Love is incredible when used for the right purposes; and in that regard, it should be used all the time, toward everyone. Love has been so widely discussed because of its universality. We all understand the need and the desire to have it in our lives. Maybe if we began treating one another as divine creatures, worthy of unconditional love, rather than judging the deservedness of romantic love, we would all begin to benefit and find happiness with ourselves. Women in music have figured this out, and they have taught the lesson to at least one of their listeners. They're telling us we're perfect the way we are, and that we should find out what type of life we want, and simply create it. That's been my plan all along. Love has gotten in the way a few times. Promises of intermittent joy don't make up for the time I have lost looking for my smile in another person's spirit. Frankly, I think it's a lot easier to find those smiles inside of yourself. No one knows you better than you, ultimately you have the upper hand in your happiness. If you get stuck, have a bad day, or just feel down about yourself for any reason, turn on some iconic chick rock and listen with your spirit. In the words of Jessie J, remember your worth; "I still fall on my face sometimes and I can't colour inside the lines, cause I'm perfectly incomplete; I'm still working on my masterpiece."
Friday, January 22, 2016
"Single" Is Not A Four Letter Word
Single is Not a
Four Letter Word
The
most offensive thing I have ever seen in my entire life is a book called “Find
a Husband After 35 (Using What I Learned at Harvard Business School)”. Rachel Greenwald, a prolific writer on the
subject of dating and the ever so popular topic of how to get a man by whatever
means necessary, wrote this book about ten years ago, helping the defenseless
women who have hit that horrific age of 35, when everything metaphorically, or literally, goes downhill and
you no longer have anything to offer the world.
This woman purposely set out to apply her hard fought Harvard elitist
education to help poor, single women fulfill their destiny, in becoming someone’s
property. We’ve got to have goals
right? I guess at Harvard, they don’t go
over the history of marriage in Eastern traditions and the mere 100 year old
romanticized notion of marriage in a Wasp society hasn’t been tainted with the
truth for New Englanders, or else, let’s face it, why would she be encouraging us
“senior women” to get hitched? I mean,
since we’re old enough to need her help, all of our fathers are probably dead,
so a dowry isn’t real likely in getting one of us as a prize. So what’s the point?
She
is not alone, however. Apparently,
everything a woman over 35 attempts requires a book or self help guide,
directing her in the proper ways to lose weight, have a baby, or make oneself
look younger. Just do a search on Amazon. Go ahead, I'll wait. Men, however, only appear to have one book on the
topic of being 35, “Date Younger Women: For Men over 35.” I take it back; that’s the most offensive
thing I’ve ever seen.
When
I began approaching “35,” I wasn't thinking, "OH MY GOD I'M GOING TO DIE ALONE!!!" What I was thinking was more along the lines of how I have to check a different
box on those stupid medical forms now, and I have to say I’m in my “mid-30’s.” and not my early anything ever again! I had no idea that the entire world saw me as
the plagued demographic, female-like lepers and hermits walking the path toward eternal spinsterhood, the darkest of
all evils with my many a cat in tow. (Yes, I
have a real cat, but it’s utterly irrelevant).
I wasn’t worried about finding a man, or if I had wrinkles that made me
look like the witch from Looney Tunes, or the complications of having a baby
after 35, which is seemingly only an issue if you are not famous, since the
women of Hollywood have babies over 40 every day and it’s a non-issue; though, it is celebrated as the greatest feat ever, so kinda the same thing. "Gwen Stefani pregnant at 46!" has recently made headlines, as opposed to Blake Shelton knocked up Gwen Stefani at 39, his swimmers are still stronger than ever! (It's a miraculous conception that all of her eggs haven't quite dried up yet rendering her completely useless!)
I
was married, once. In my twenties. And I was a very different person then. Thankfully, divorce is an option. Because marriage is set out to be such a high
priority goal for women, starting at such a young age, women who haven’t matured,
found themselves, or even ever had time to be alone, marry every day to men they feel
will protect them, honor them, and never leave them, because that would be just ghastly. But one thing that is rarely, if ever,
pointed out in the discussions on the necessity of marriage is that we have
romanticized the notion surrounding marriage for the last 100 years, making a
partnership into something intimate and long lasting, but we haven’t adjusted
our ideals of marriage against the changes in the way men and women relate to
one another on a regular basis. The
Grace Kelly’s, Audrey Hepburn’s, Rock Hudson (yes, I know), Cary Grant’s of the
world no longer exist. We are not those people! The moral
yardstick against which we measure ourselves to these romantic masterminds no
longer exists. That is why we end up
failing, miserably, constantly, and creating offensive self help books for
women who have changed, and may not want Cary Grant showing up at her door with
flowers to take her for an early night of dancing and a late carriage ride
through the park. Women have changed.
(And frankly so have men). And I am damn
proud to be one of the women who, I prefer, have evolved. I face better choices, more choices. I get to face them on my own, and there are some of us who's own mothers can't say that. We are miles away from where we need to be, but we are light years from where we once were. Thank some deity unknown that I was born when I was, I could not have conformed to the likes of any other era. Hell, I struggle enough with this one.
I
started this blog when I was in a dark place.
Everything was ending for me. And
so I wrote it out. And I am glad I
did. It was very cathartic. But the cloud has lifted and I can’t write
about things ending all the time anymore.
I decided to change it up, write about something I do know very well,
and that affects me every day of my life; being a single woman, by choice. The stigma surrounding the choices I have
made for my life over the past few years astounds me still, and I want to share
them with you. I want to create a
discourse for the “single” life and make an attempt at taking it out of the
category of “bad words” and putting it into a category of “neutral words.” I am a single woman. And that is not a dirty word. This new blog is going to be my journey of
self-discovery of my single-dom, how it came to be, and how I knew it was right
for me. Please join me. It isn’t a propaganda piece on trying to make
everyone against marriage, I swear. It
is a piece that will try to help you understand yourself better, and become more
comfortable in your times alone. Always
remember, there is a big difference between being alone, and being lonely. And once you know yourself, and learn to love
yourself, there really is no better company to be had.
Tuesday, December 29, 2015
Fighting Like Mother Teresa
"I know God will not give me anything I can't handle. I just wish that He didn't trust me so much." -Mother Teresa
I am reading Chicken Soup for the Soul, The Cancer Book, and it sucks, mostly because I could be part of this anthology now, and not because it's written poorly. It's actually very good. This quote from Mother Teresa, so fluidly placed at the beginning of chapter two, is the first thing that makes me sick to my stomach. Is that what is happening to me? Should I be honored by the massive amount of chaos that is my life? Well, I'm not. And if you're up there, you can stop anytime.
I haven't prayed for a long time. In fact, my spiritual journey kinda stopped after Ryan died. I let it all go. Didn't seem to be doing me much good anymore. Recently, though, eastern philosophies, as opposed to religions, have peaked my interest and I signed up for a class on Buddhism. But I have had a spiritual setback, from which I don't know how to bounce back. That day I laid, strapped in so tight, on the table, going in and out of the huge dunkin donuts looking sign they call a PET scan, I prayed. I cried inside, and maybe once or twice outside, and prayed the whole time. I didn't know to whom, but I did it with my whole body and my whole spirit, every piece of energy that I was in those moments, prayed. It was the first time I was scared, really petrified. This machine was going to tell me my future, and it was capable of destroying me. I don't know if I was extremely tired, or the radiation was affecting me, or if something else was going on, but I went in and out of consciousness a lot in that hour. And when they unstrapped me, and helped me off the table, I was as sick as I had been up to that point. I felt like I was bargaining for my life.
In college, the story of Job was assigned to me more than anything else. I wonder sometimes if it wasn't for a reason. For those of you who don't know the story of Job, he was God's most faithful servant on earth, and God had blessed him for his faith. Satan challenged God with Job's faith by saying, anyone whom you would bless so much would be that faithful to you. It's not fair. So God came back at Satan and said, if I took everything away from Job, he would still be just as faithful. And God did just that. He took everything, little by little, leaving Job a jobless, family-less, unhealthy mark of a man, until he finally said, as in the final words of Jesus himself, why have you forsaken me? God killed his entire family. He destroyed his business in a warlike manner. He ostracized him and covered him in disease. I sit and I think, this story sounds all too familiar. I used to say, there was nothing that could shake my faith. It was grounded in truth. I don't say that much anymore. What kind of egomaniacal monster would destroy someone to prove a point? To make himself feel better about being loved? I've been in codependent relationships before. They never work out.
I want it to. I think it's odd how in my most frightening hour, I called out to a deity I hadn't spoken with in some time. I have questioned, since that day, why I did that. And I am working on an answer. I am certain I will never get it. I don't believe that when it comes to our spirit, we will ever know the truth. It's there, we are more than physical beings. We are more than just an intellect. Emotions, energy, motion, is more than just matter; it's more than just pointlessness. It has to be. I believe my spirit is greater than my body. I believe it existed before me. I just do.
But then I wonder why? Why hasn't any of my deceased friends or family ever tried to contact me, comfort me, make me feel like things will be ok? Why haven't they made it a point to let me know they have passed on, that they are ok? Surely they loved me enough to want to comfort me. Or maybe it doesn't work that way. What if Freud was right, and religion was a hapless method that humanity created in an attempt to fill a void within us that life hasn't been able to touch? Three thousand gods have been created in the history of mythology. Are we really that imaginative? Are we that perpetually incorrect? Were none of them real at all?
I am sure the answer will elude me my entire life. I don't actually wish to find the answer to one of life's greatest questions. I don't assume that much greatness for myself. It's insurmountable for my feeble mind; I have enough going on. In my life, I have taken on more scars than most of the people whom I know; all I've ever tried to figure out is why. Why must I be the one who gets the burden of these crosses when others move so smoothly throughout their lives and never understand the weight of a real struggle. I know so many of these people. And I trust, that they truly do not know me.
I wonder what it would be like to get to know someone on such a level. But my general disposition has always been a little lethargic and dark. I have days where my optimism consumes me and I want to implode and let it flow through me as if it were my own blood. But it doesn't last. I believe in self-fulfilling prophecies and mind over matter. I believe my mind has caused the majority of my own problems in life. It has caused the depth of my disease. Ignorance is bliss. And many of those whom I know who flow through life with little problems under their belt, don't reside inside the curse of constant reflection and the perpetual inward turn. Sometimes, my mind, my ever so exhausted, blackened, scarred mind, envies them. Sometimes, it's pity. I'll continue on, knowing too much instead, thank you.
So what do you do when you are in the midst of a spiritual, financial, physical, emotional crisis? When every single part of your life is turned on its head and you have zero answers? How do you face each day and assume to be okay, relaying calmness and self-sufficiency to those with whom you interact? There's only one answer to that, Fearlessly. Any other option ensues more chaos than is already in play in your life.
That doesn't mean that you can't have mini-breakdowns in your private moments and break things will ball bats inside your own mind. It's healing really. But the only outlook you can have on your life is fearlessness. Anything else is going to get you killed, sooner.
I guess it has come easy to me. No, I don't know why. It's just a mindset. I dive into anything. When I first got diagnosed with cancer, I immediately went online and researched the hell out of it. Doctor said not to, but how could I? I know that about 130,000 people each year get diagnosed with melanoma, mostly females between the ages of 19-29, and that about 10,000 people die of it each year. 90% survival rate, I'll take it. Knowledge is your greatest asset in any situation. Beating something, anything, has more to do with what you know and how you apply that knowledge than it ever has been about trusting allies, though they're nice to have. I trust my doctors, I honestly do. But I also know that they're busy and overwhelmed, and deal with this so much, that it is depersonalized to an extent for them. If I don't ask the questions that plague me, I may never know the answer. There's trust, and there's dependence. Never make yourself dependent on anything or anyone. No one is available all the time for you, except yourself.
Yes, I've lost friends and family. I have dealt with health issues perplexing to the greatest medical minds of our time. I've been beaten by the same hands that have held me in their most gentle state and felt safe through the night. I have confronted suicide in the face and fought it off. I have had my heart broken into miniscule pieces by indestructible forces. I have been left alone for so long, that I have become almost awkward regarding attempts at communicating with others. And I am still here. I may have a heart only capable of beating, rather than loving; a life capable of moving on, rather than existing in the moment; conversation capable of type, rather than small talk; and memories capable of giving me stepping stones rather than comfort and glee, but, still, I am here.
I don't assume to know the reasons why I am given so much to overcome. I only know how to overcome it. Whether it is tests from a deity, the randomness of life, karma at its best, or my mind defeating my body, I continue to fight for my life every day. I know that essentially, it is pointless, but I appreciate a good piece of art, and artful conversation, the love of an animal, the triumph of an underdog, facing a new challenge, the memories of loved ones, and, the best and the worst of it all...the hope of something greater to come. Even if it never does, at least I can say, I was here, waiting for it, faith in hand, fight in my back pocket, always ready.
I am reading Chicken Soup for the Soul, The Cancer Book, and it sucks, mostly because I could be part of this anthology now, and not because it's written poorly. It's actually very good. This quote from Mother Teresa, so fluidly placed at the beginning of chapter two, is the first thing that makes me sick to my stomach. Is that what is happening to me? Should I be honored by the massive amount of chaos that is my life? Well, I'm not. And if you're up there, you can stop anytime.
I haven't prayed for a long time. In fact, my spiritual journey kinda stopped after Ryan died. I let it all go. Didn't seem to be doing me much good anymore. Recently, though, eastern philosophies, as opposed to religions, have peaked my interest and I signed up for a class on Buddhism. But I have had a spiritual setback, from which I don't know how to bounce back. That day I laid, strapped in so tight, on the table, going in and out of the huge dunkin donuts looking sign they call a PET scan, I prayed. I cried inside, and maybe once or twice outside, and prayed the whole time. I didn't know to whom, but I did it with my whole body and my whole spirit, every piece of energy that I was in those moments, prayed. It was the first time I was scared, really petrified. This machine was going to tell me my future, and it was capable of destroying me. I don't know if I was extremely tired, or the radiation was affecting me, or if something else was going on, but I went in and out of consciousness a lot in that hour. And when they unstrapped me, and helped me off the table, I was as sick as I had been up to that point. I felt like I was bargaining for my life.
In college, the story of Job was assigned to me more than anything else. I wonder sometimes if it wasn't for a reason. For those of you who don't know the story of Job, he was God's most faithful servant on earth, and God had blessed him for his faith. Satan challenged God with Job's faith by saying, anyone whom you would bless so much would be that faithful to you. It's not fair. So God came back at Satan and said, if I took everything away from Job, he would still be just as faithful. And God did just that. He took everything, little by little, leaving Job a jobless, family-less, unhealthy mark of a man, until he finally said, as in the final words of Jesus himself, why have you forsaken me? God killed his entire family. He destroyed his business in a warlike manner. He ostracized him and covered him in disease. I sit and I think, this story sounds all too familiar. I used to say, there was nothing that could shake my faith. It was grounded in truth. I don't say that much anymore. What kind of egomaniacal monster would destroy someone to prove a point? To make himself feel better about being loved? I've been in codependent relationships before. They never work out.
I want it to. I think it's odd how in my most frightening hour, I called out to a deity I hadn't spoken with in some time. I have questioned, since that day, why I did that. And I am working on an answer. I am certain I will never get it. I don't believe that when it comes to our spirit, we will ever know the truth. It's there, we are more than physical beings. We are more than just an intellect. Emotions, energy, motion, is more than just matter; it's more than just pointlessness. It has to be. I believe my spirit is greater than my body. I believe it existed before me. I just do.
But then I wonder why? Why hasn't any of my deceased friends or family ever tried to contact me, comfort me, make me feel like things will be ok? Why haven't they made it a point to let me know they have passed on, that they are ok? Surely they loved me enough to want to comfort me. Or maybe it doesn't work that way. What if Freud was right, and religion was a hapless method that humanity created in an attempt to fill a void within us that life hasn't been able to touch? Three thousand gods have been created in the history of mythology. Are we really that imaginative? Are we that perpetually incorrect? Were none of them real at all?
I am sure the answer will elude me my entire life. I don't actually wish to find the answer to one of life's greatest questions. I don't assume that much greatness for myself. It's insurmountable for my feeble mind; I have enough going on. In my life, I have taken on more scars than most of the people whom I know; all I've ever tried to figure out is why. Why must I be the one who gets the burden of these crosses when others move so smoothly throughout their lives and never understand the weight of a real struggle. I know so many of these people. And I trust, that they truly do not know me.
I wonder what it would be like to get to know someone on such a level. But my general disposition has always been a little lethargic and dark. I have days where my optimism consumes me and I want to implode and let it flow through me as if it were my own blood. But it doesn't last. I believe in self-fulfilling prophecies and mind over matter. I believe my mind has caused the majority of my own problems in life. It has caused the depth of my disease. Ignorance is bliss. And many of those whom I know who flow through life with little problems under their belt, don't reside inside the curse of constant reflection and the perpetual inward turn. Sometimes, my mind, my ever so exhausted, blackened, scarred mind, envies them. Sometimes, it's pity. I'll continue on, knowing too much instead, thank you.
So what do you do when you are in the midst of a spiritual, financial, physical, emotional crisis? When every single part of your life is turned on its head and you have zero answers? How do you face each day and assume to be okay, relaying calmness and self-sufficiency to those with whom you interact? There's only one answer to that, Fearlessly. Any other option ensues more chaos than is already in play in your life.
That doesn't mean that you can't have mini-breakdowns in your private moments and break things will ball bats inside your own mind. It's healing really. But the only outlook you can have on your life is fearlessness. Anything else is going to get you killed, sooner.
I guess it has come easy to me. No, I don't know why. It's just a mindset. I dive into anything. When I first got diagnosed with cancer, I immediately went online and researched the hell out of it. Doctor said not to, but how could I? I know that about 130,000 people each year get diagnosed with melanoma, mostly females between the ages of 19-29, and that about 10,000 people die of it each year. 90% survival rate, I'll take it. Knowledge is your greatest asset in any situation. Beating something, anything, has more to do with what you know and how you apply that knowledge than it ever has been about trusting allies, though they're nice to have. I trust my doctors, I honestly do. But I also know that they're busy and overwhelmed, and deal with this so much, that it is depersonalized to an extent for them. If I don't ask the questions that plague me, I may never know the answer. There's trust, and there's dependence. Never make yourself dependent on anything or anyone. No one is available all the time for you, except yourself.
Yes, I've lost friends and family. I have dealt with health issues perplexing to the greatest medical minds of our time. I've been beaten by the same hands that have held me in their most gentle state and felt safe through the night. I have confronted suicide in the face and fought it off. I have had my heart broken into miniscule pieces by indestructible forces. I have been left alone for so long, that I have become almost awkward regarding attempts at communicating with others. And I am still here. I may have a heart only capable of beating, rather than loving; a life capable of moving on, rather than existing in the moment; conversation capable of type, rather than small talk; and memories capable of giving me stepping stones rather than comfort and glee, but, still, I am here.
I don't assume to know the reasons why I am given so much to overcome. I only know how to overcome it. Whether it is tests from a deity, the randomness of life, karma at its best, or my mind defeating my body, I continue to fight for my life every day. I know that essentially, it is pointless, but I appreciate a good piece of art, and artful conversation, the love of an animal, the triumph of an underdog, facing a new challenge, the memories of loved ones, and, the best and the worst of it all...the hope of something greater to come. Even if it never does, at least I can say, I was here, waiting for it, faith in hand, fight in my back pocket, always ready.
Saturday, December 19, 2015
Living with No Regrets, But I Haven't Done It All Just Yet
Facing one's mortality is an exhausting experience. Every day you begin to think of things differently that you ever had before. What about this, what if I do that, what if, what if. Frankly, I'm worn out. The topic of regrets alone is enough to overwhelm a person with a functional life. Yes, I'm still functional. I think. I suppose that would require outside affirmation. But in terms of regrets, I've always felt like I have lived my life on my own terms. There are just a few things that I'd wish would have gone a little bit differently.
I wish the concept of family would have meant more to my own. I believe everything turns out the way it is supposed to; otherwise I would have been declared utterly insane years ago. However, at this point, even the small things seem superficial when it comes to family. I don't mean they don't matter; rather, they are no more significant to me than any other relationship. Maybe that is a good thing. I am 100% certain that my lack of a family has allowed me to appreciate my friends on a deeper level than most. I do endure a severe amount of compassion towards those whom I love. But I always hear people talk about family as if it is something "more than" and I often wonder what that is like. Maybe I already know. I just don't know that I know.
I am also 100% certain that it is why I never had children of my own. Family was never a priority. It wasn't required to know love; it wasn't required to feel happiness; it didn't seem to offer any additional benefits to life. So I refrained. I don't regret it. I am entirely positive I would not have lasted as a mother. Though I am motherly to a fault to those whom I chose to love, I do not believe that I have the concept of full time relationships built within my making.
I wish I would have learned the true meaning of respect for others at a younger age. Being a handful is an understatement when you are referring to my behavior as an adolescent. It wasn't until I was thrown into the bowels of society to fend for myself that I realized the importance of the utmost respect of others and begin to act accordingly. Regardless of whether or not you depend on others, you do depend on others. I am one of the more independent people I know, and I depend on a TON of people to make sure my life continues to run "smoothly." Ha, that was comical to even type. But you know what I mean. I need to make sure that I don't have a bad reputation. I need to know that people can view me as dependable. I have to ensure that I am hirable, trainable, and valuable in the workforce so that my life may continue on at the level of independence which it currently does. Respect is key. One must honor the nature of each human being which they encounter; one never truly knows what purpose that person is about to serve for you.
I wish I had opened up and loved more people earlier, the way that I do now. I am surrounded in my spirit by the love of so many that it seems worthless when I look back on the days when my heart was sealed off, my mind was closed, and I thought I was content with what I had. Even though having more people in your life means, directly, that you will have less time with each, it is a remarkable feeling have nonjudgmental, pure, non-discriminate love and desire for the people who are in it. Before, it seemed as though everyone who came into my life was scaled and graded based on what I might need them for. How ridiculous I feel now realizing that about myself. Had I known the amazement of loving people simply for who they are, and how they contribute to the world, rather than just my own pin-dot sized life, I would have jumped on that bandwagon with fury. Since my mind has been opened to clean, unadulterated love, I have met more people, smiled more often, laughed harder than imaginable, and felt encouragement about myself, than I have known for the culmination of my life. Me, the one who never thought she judged anyone. Truly, though, I didn't. I shut out everyone equally.
These days though, I quite literally SEE people in a different light than ever before. Everyone has a glorious purpose to love and be loved. Everyone has a beauty within them that shines, if only you are looking for light. What I had been doing is accepting people who complimented the person who I was, again, on my terms. It left out so many opportunities for memories and tenderness, love and chaos, charm and spiritual enrichment, that I am left wondering, does anyone feel this way? Does anyone know what it means to want nothing from anyone but for them to love one another? My heart aches for it. And its an utterly indescribable notion. The notion to not judge someone at all, for any reason. We are all we are; flawed, confused, hungry, tired, scared, alone, pessimistic, chaotic fucked up masses and yet we are all the same in that right. None of us get it right all the time. None of us get it right half the time. If we could see that, and come together with our renewed sense of humanity, the entire world would change in an instant. Yes, I am idealistic enough to believe that. I never said I thought it was plausible.
I wish I had stayed single through my 20's. Maybe now I wouldn't be too jaded to try again. Marriage ruined my concept of romantic love, the exact opposite of its purpose. Got to love irony. Now all I have left to idolize is natural love, the love of a friend, the love of a laugh, the love of a pet's affection, the love of memories. To think of entering into a romantic relationship with someone at this point in my life seems, self-defeating at best, torturous at worst. It isn't that being loved by someone doesn't cross my mind. It certainly does. I am human; the human condition rests upon the precept of being matched perfectly to another and acquiring affirmation of one's complete worth and total value from the perspective of another's mind, heart, soul. I logically know that this idea, is just wrong. To chase after it, to me, would be to live in a way that is counterintuitive to my ideologies. But maybe, just maybe, had I not gotten married too young, in a state of rebellion against my family's wishes, and struggled to make life work in a codependent relationship for the better half of a decade with someone who knew only how to love himself first, maybe I would be able to let someone love me today. Maybe I wouldn't have to face this world alone. Maybe someone would show me the compassion I wish to show others, and provide to me the idea that my life has remarkable value.
I wish I had been better to my body. This is hard to rest all blame entirely upon myself. Habits start with children and we weren't an exceptionally healthy family. Hot dogs and macaroni and cheese (I'm not knocking it, it's still one of my favorites, I just refuse to eat it), were a staple in our home. Pop was always accessible and continues to be a thorn in my side to date. I have underwent hypnosis, twice, in an attempt to get off the stuff. It is my greatest vice. Nothing works. Though I know my mind is great and powerful, I do not allow it to conquer this irreparable condition. I eat more cheese than any one person should, weekly. I eat more often that I should. I know that. I'm bored, what can I say. I absolutely love to cook and try new foods. Ree Drummond is the greatest she-devil who has come around in ages. But I do love healthy food. Again, if I had someone to cook for, maybe this wouldn't be an issue. However, as a single woman, it is wholly pointless to buy healthy (aka expensive) food, thinking that you will make it all before it goes bad. You won't. You will waste hundreds of dollars a month and eat out anyway. I don't care how many different ways someone tells me to cut the recipe in half, it's always too much food. I give in. I'm fat. Live with it. It hardly makes me a bad person.
Now this one, eh, I could go either way. I wish I had saved more money. Do I really though? I have always done what I have wanted to do, when I wanted to do it, and have had an excellent time in the process. If I had saved more money, I would have done less, but bigger things. Maybe I had been to Europe already. But I wouldn't have had the greatest shoe collection of any of my friends, or the tattoos I wanted which enable me to experience immediately gratifying catharsis on any number of topics, now imprinted on me like art. Who is to say which is the better bargain? I have always had more; smaller, but more. Being cheap has allowed me to go to Niagara Falls, Put-In-Bay, Virginia Beach, and five concerts all in one year. Or, I could have done none of that, and went to Italy. Who knows. I don't regret what I have, but I want what I don't yet have. My only solutions is having both, and that just doesn't work. I am selfish in that I require immediate gratification of a need almost at onset; saving isn't compatible with my needs.
I wish I had understood the basis for gossip during the times it affected my life. Being a child is difficult. We seek affection and affirmations from so many different sources. Gossip is an attempt by young (immature either by age or intellect) people to forge a connection with someone through sultry admittances or tales that negatively affect another person's sense of worth. Granted, the strong can survive a tale or two, and having a healthy perspective on one's own contributions and status in society will easily eliminate any impact the aforementioned gossip may have attempted to soil; but that is rarely the case during the times in which it is in play. Gossip hurts; find friends by being a decent human being instead. They'll last longer anyway.
I don't want it to seem as though I have a ton of regrets. There are things you just cannot control in life. You have no way of knowing that they will eventually affect you or make you feel a certain way. I wish I had said I love you more often and to more people. I wish I was stronger in the face of adversity. I wish I wasn't as quick to anger during certain situations in my life. I wish I had answered the phone. I wish I had walked away. I wish my list couldn't be nearly as long as it would if I would type it all out for you. But it is. And there is absolutely jack shit I can do about it now. Except, let it go.
Try not to dwell on regrets. Life is always set on a certain path, but with each choice you make, a new road is carved out for your consequences to venture upon. It will never be more than you can handle. It will always be worth it. Take the time to reflect on your life so that you may understand the why's of your choices. Regret as little as possible. Live by your standards and die with a smile on your face.
I wish the concept of family would have meant more to my own. I believe everything turns out the way it is supposed to; otherwise I would have been declared utterly insane years ago. However, at this point, even the small things seem superficial when it comes to family. I don't mean they don't matter; rather, they are no more significant to me than any other relationship. Maybe that is a good thing. I am 100% certain that my lack of a family has allowed me to appreciate my friends on a deeper level than most. I do endure a severe amount of compassion towards those whom I love. But I always hear people talk about family as if it is something "more than" and I often wonder what that is like. Maybe I already know. I just don't know that I know.
I am also 100% certain that it is why I never had children of my own. Family was never a priority. It wasn't required to know love; it wasn't required to feel happiness; it didn't seem to offer any additional benefits to life. So I refrained. I don't regret it. I am entirely positive I would not have lasted as a mother. Though I am motherly to a fault to those whom I chose to love, I do not believe that I have the concept of full time relationships built within my making.
I wish I would have learned the true meaning of respect for others at a younger age. Being a handful is an understatement when you are referring to my behavior as an adolescent. It wasn't until I was thrown into the bowels of society to fend for myself that I realized the importance of the utmost respect of others and begin to act accordingly. Regardless of whether or not you depend on others, you do depend on others. I am one of the more independent people I know, and I depend on a TON of people to make sure my life continues to run "smoothly." Ha, that was comical to even type. But you know what I mean. I need to make sure that I don't have a bad reputation. I need to know that people can view me as dependable. I have to ensure that I am hirable, trainable, and valuable in the workforce so that my life may continue on at the level of independence which it currently does. Respect is key. One must honor the nature of each human being which they encounter; one never truly knows what purpose that person is about to serve for you.
I wish I had opened up and loved more people earlier, the way that I do now. I am surrounded in my spirit by the love of so many that it seems worthless when I look back on the days when my heart was sealed off, my mind was closed, and I thought I was content with what I had. Even though having more people in your life means, directly, that you will have less time with each, it is a remarkable feeling have nonjudgmental, pure, non-discriminate love and desire for the people who are in it. Before, it seemed as though everyone who came into my life was scaled and graded based on what I might need them for. How ridiculous I feel now realizing that about myself. Had I known the amazement of loving people simply for who they are, and how they contribute to the world, rather than just my own pin-dot sized life, I would have jumped on that bandwagon with fury. Since my mind has been opened to clean, unadulterated love, I have met more people, smiled more often, laughed harder than imaginable, and felt encouragement about myself, than I have known for the culmination of my life. Me, the one who never thought she judged anyone. Truly, though, I didn't. I shut out everyone equally.
These days though, I quite literally SEE people in a different light than ever before. Everyone has a glorious purpose to love and be loved. Everyone has a beauty within them that shines, if only you are looking for light. What I had been doing is accepting people who complimented the person who I was, again, on my terms. It left out so many opportunities for memories and tenderness, love and chaos, charm and spiritual enrichment, that I am left wondering, does anyone feel this way? Does anyone know what it means to want nothing from anyone but for them to love one another? My heart aches for it. And its an utterly indescribable notion. The notion to not judge someone at all, for any reason. We are all we are; flawed, confused, hungry, tired, scared, alone, pessimistic, chaotic fucked up masses and yet we are all the same in that right. None of us get it right all the time. None of us get it right half the time. If we could see that, and come together with our renewed sense of humanity, the entire world would change in an instant. Yes, I am idealistic enough to believe that. I never said I thought it was plausible.
I wish I had stayed single through my 20's. Maybe now I wouldn't be too jaded to try again. Marriage ruined my concept of romantic love, the exact opposite of its purpose. Got to love irony. Now all I have left to idolize is natural love, the love of a friend, the love of a laugh, the love of a pet's affection, the love of memories. To think of entering into a romantic relationship with someone at this point in my life seems, self-defeating at best, torturous at worst. It isn't that being loved by someone doesn't cross my mind. It certainly does. I am human; the human condition rests upon the precept of being matched perfectly to another and acquiring affirmation of one's complete worth and total value from the perspective of another's mind, heart, soul. I logically know that this idea, is just wrong. To chase after it, to me, would be to live in a way that is counterintuitive to my ideologies. But maybe, just maybe, had I not gotten married too young, in a state of rebellion against my family's wishes, and struggled to make life work in a codependent relationship for the better half of a decade with someone who knew only how to love himself first, maybe I would be able to let someone love me today. Maybe I wouldn't have to face this world alone. Maybe someone would show me the compassion I wish to show others, and provide to me the idea that my life has remarkable value.
I wish I had been better to my body. This is hard to rest all blame entirely upon myself. Habits start with children and we weren't an exceptionally healthy family. Hot dogs and macaroni and cheese (I'm not knocking it, it's still one of my favorites, I just refuse to eat it), were a staple in our home. Pop was always accessible and continues to be a thorn in my side to date. I have underwent hypnosis, twice, in an attempt to get off the stuff. It is my greatest vice. Nothing works. Though I know my mind is great and powerful, I do not allow it to conquer this irreparable condition. I eat more cheese than any one person should, weekly. I eat more often that I should. I know that. I'm bored, what can I say. I absolutely love to cook and try new foods. Ree Drummond is the greatest she-devil who has come around in ages. But I do love healthy food. Again, if I had someone to cook for, maybe this wouldn't be an issue. However, as a single woman, it is wholly pointless to buy healthy (aka expensive) food, thinking that you will make it all before it goes bad. You won't. You will waste hundreds of dollars a month and eat out anyway. I don't care how many different ways someone tells me to cut the recipe in half, it's always too much food. I give in. I'm fat. Live with it. It hardly makes me a bad person.
Now this one, eh, I could go either way. I wish I had saved more money. Do I really though? I have always done what I have wanted to do, when I wanted to do it, and have had an excellent time in the process. If I had saved more money, I would have done less, but bigger things. Maybe I had been to Europe already. But I wouldn't have had the greatest shoe collection of any of my friends, or the tattoos I wanted which enable me to experience immediately gratifying catharsis on any number of topics, now imprinted on me like art. Who is to say which is the better bargain? I have always had more; smaller, but more. Being cheap has allowed me to go to Niagara Falls, Put-In-Bay, Virginia Beach, and five concerts all in one year. Or, I could have done none of that, and went to Italy. Who knows. I don't regret what I have, but I want what I don't yet have. My only solutions is having both, and that just doesn't work. I am selfish in that I require immediate gratification of a need almost at onset; saving isn't compatible with my needs.
I wish I had understood the basis for gossip during the times it affected my life. Being a child is difficult. We seek affection and affirmations from so many different sources. Gossip is an attempt by young (immature either by age or intellect) people to forge a connection with someone through sultry admittances or tales that negatively affect another person's sense of worth. Granted, the strong can survive a tale or two, and having a healthy perspective on one's own contributions and status in society will easily eliminate any impact the aforementioned gossip may have attempted to soil; but that is rarely the case during the times in which it is in play. Gossip hurts; find friends by being a decent human being instead. They'll last longer anyway.
I don't want it to seem as though I have a ton of regrets. There are things you just cannot control in life. You have no way of knowing that they will eventually affect you or make you feel a certain way. I wish I had said I love you more often and to more people. I wish I was stronger in the face of adversity. I wish I wasn't as quick to anger during certain situations in my life. I wish I had answered the phone. I wish I had walked away. I wish my list couldn't be nearly as long as it would if I would type it all out for you. But it is. And there is absolutely jack shit I can do about it now. Except, let it go.
Try not to dwell on regrets. Life is always set on a certain path, but with each choice you make, a new road is carved out for your consequences to venture upon. It will never be more than you can handle. It will always be worth it. Take the time to reflect on your life so that you may understand the why's of your choices. Regret as little as possible. Live by your standards and die with a smile on your face.
Monday, December 14, 2015
Best of Luck to Us All
In 2004, living in the hell that Ohio calls Toledo, I began testing for lymphoma. The doctor said the word to me within a two minute conversation without asking me any questions about anything! Casual as they come. I was 24 years old. I think of how the world has changed and I'm dumbfounded. In 2004, when you took an HIV test, they had a five page questionnaire they took you through like a multiple choice test, including questions like, have you ever engaged in sexual intercourse with animals including but not limited to primates. Then you wait three days on the results. Three grueling, horrifying, nauseating long days. I don't care how safe you think you are, waiting three days makes you feel guilty, sick, and utterly distracted. So when I go to a doctor's appointment and some of the first words out of his mouth are, "we're going to test you for lymphoma," all of the same feelings came rushing back to me. Mortality. How many times must we meet?
Eventually, meaning, five years later, my official diagnosis, (since 2005 I had the diagnosis of "mixed connective tissue disease" which means they knew it was autoimmune, just not sure which one) of scleroderma came back. Again, it felt like a death sentence. Today, when you take an HIV test, they swab your mouth and you wait 20 minutes and know your fate. It took five years to find out what was going on with me from my first visit to the doctor. I blame it all on moving to Toledo. If you go to hell, part of hell will return with you.
Lying on the first couch I ever bought, so proud of that, it was black leather of course, binging on some tv show I was obsessed with then and have no idea what it was now, I noticed my lymph node was terribly swollen in my neck. Not being sick, or having felt sick anytime lately, I went to the doctor, because I had free insurance through the university. "We're going to test you for lymphoma." Super. Thank god when my next appointment came around, he was in Maui or somewhere absurd and I was transferred to a female doctor who knew a little more about handling patients with care. She tried, and luckily identified enough about me to get me on the right track. And then, my contract was up with the school, which meant my insurance ran out, and I moved back to Cambridge. Start all over again.
Found a rheumatologist in Zanesville; she's the one who gave me the "mixed connective tissue" diagnosis and began putting me through a myriad of medications basically as a trial and error methodology. Then she transferred to somewhere in Pennsylvania. I got notified by a letter in the mail. The person who took over for her diagnosed me in my first visit. I love him. I saw him for seven years. He has since moved on as well. I have no luck with physicians.
I have had general practitioners, rheumatologists, dermatologists, gastroenterologists, endocrinologists, oncologists, gynecologists, hematologists, cardiologists, I mean, what else is there? Here I am, at 35, adding to the list. Next week I get a surgical oncologist. I don't have a problem with that. I have been lucky to know so many doctors who are committed to their craft. What I have a problem with is requiring such a plethora of medical personnel in my life! I know people my age who don't even have a dentist. I can't fathom the peace, or ignorance, of that life.
But after days like today, I almost understand my fate. I've done nothing. I do nothing. Life will be taken from you when you take advantage of it. Life requires motivation. I believe I have lost most of mine. Life requires love and purpose. Life has beaten me to an inch tall thumbtack waiting to impede the soles of others' mobility.
I try to write, nothing of worth comes out. I try to do, my brain restrains my motions. I try to think, life gets in the way. I don't want to think about this life. My life. When someone comes to me about their own life, I beam positivity and motivation. I apparently do not credit my own with the value which I do others'. So at this point, I must ask myself, is my mind deteriorating my body, or is my body creating the rot that resides within my mind?
I believe the purpose of life is to love and to give of yourself until there is nothing left to give. I believe it with all that I am. I believe that work is a way to manipulate us into feeding the upper pendulum of society. I believe that kindness is the only thing that will allow you to feel free. I believe that if you love something, you will only gain from the experience, if you do it selflessly. I believe the world is now designed to mechanically deteriorate our brains to the point of maintaining our life and unteach us how to live it. I believe their forces are much stronger than ours. It takes someone special to conquer the obstacles they have erected against us all.
Where does that leave me? Still contemplating that. I have cancer at 35. It's getting redundant. My adulthood has centered around doctors. I know more about the Hippocratic oath than most premed students. I've had nearly every single brand of insurance that is currently offered. I can recite my twenty four pills in both generic and brand name forms. I can talk to any doctor like a champ, and get "good question" as a response from most. I'll always have medical debt. I have as many "health" apps on my phone as I do shopping apps. And I've had my will and final wishes done since I was 25 years old.
What a bleak and dark perspective on my life, right? I don't see it that way. I am strong. I am prepared. I love to crochet. I love to watch marathons of tv shows I was obsessed with when they were on tv in real time. I love reading three pages of a book and putting it down then playing solitaire for hours. Then picking up a completely different book. I adore the smell of English lavender and hate French lavender. How are they so different?! I love making travel plans, and I'm completely obsessed with checking out different hotels. I think swimming might be the greatest thing to do in the entire world. And I couldn't give two shits less how I look in a bikini, because I'm wearing one regardless. I love learning. Anything. Absolutely anything. I am a knowledge junkie. Give me something new to learn everyday and I feel complete. It's all I crave. Information. Give me what you got. Because of that, I know this much is true:
; My story isn't over. It may not be exciting. It may not be uplifting to most. I may not have anyone to share it with, and to some of you, that makes it worthless. But to me, it's not over yet. I have meaning to find. I have meaning to provide. So in the deeply poetic words of my television soul sister Max, from Two Broke Girls, know this, "I'm fine. I'll always be fine." Life's never been easy. But it's almost always worth it. I wish us all the level of success we see for ourselves. Best of luck to each and every single one of us.
Eventually, meaning, five years later, my official diagnosis, (since 2005 I had the diagnosis of "mixed connective tissue disease" which means they knew it was autoimmune, just not sure which one) of scleroderma came back. Again, it felt like a death sentence. Today, when you take an HIV test, they swab your mouth and you wait 20 minutes and know your fate. It took five years to find out what was going on with me from my first visit to the doctor. I blame it all on moving to Toledo. If you go to hell, part of hell will return with you.
Lying on the first couch I ever bought, so proud of that, it was black leather of course, binging on some tv show I was obsessed with then and have no idea what it was now, I noticed my lymph node was terribly swollen in my neck. Not being sick, or having felt sick anytime lately, I went to the doctor, because I had free insurance through the university. "We're going to test you for lymphoma." Super. Thank god when my next appointment came around, he was in Maui or somewhere absurd and I was transferred to a female doctor who knew a little more about handling patients with care. She tried, and luckily identified enough about me to get me on the right track. And then, my contract was up with the school, which meant my insurance ran out, and I moved back to Cambridge. Start all over again.
Found a rheumatologist in Zanesville; she's the one who gave me the "mixed connective tissue" diagnosis and began putting me through a myriad of medications basically as a trial and error methodology. Then she transferred to somewhere in Pennsylvania. I got notified by a letter in the mail. The person who took over for her diagnosed me in my first visit. I love him. I saw him for seven years. He has since moved on as well. I have no luck with physicians.
I have had general practitioners, rheumatologists, dermatologists, gastroenterologists, endocrinologists, oncologists, gynecologists, hematologists, cardiologists, I mean, what else is there? Here I am, at 35, adding to the list. Next week I get a surgical oncologist. I don't have a problem with that. I have been lucky to know so many doctors who are committed to their craft. What I have a problem with is requiring such a plethora of medical personnel in my life! I know people my age who don't even have a dentist. I can't fathom the peace, or ignorance, of that life.
But after days like today, I almost understand my fate. I've done nothing. I do nothing. Life will be taken from you when you take advantage of it. Life requires motivation. I believe I have lost most of mine. Life requires love and purpose. Life has beaten me to an inch tall thumbtack waiting to impede the soles of others' mobility.
I try to write, nothing of worth comes out. I try to do, my brain restrains my motions. I try to think, life gets in the way. I don't want to think about this life. My life. When someone comes to me about their own life, I beam positivity and motivation. I apparently do not credit my own with the value which I do others'. So at this point, I must ask myself, is my mind deteriorating my body, or is my body creating the rot that resides within my mind?
I believe the purpose of life is to love and to give of yourself until there is nothing left to give. I believe it with all that I am. I believe that work is a way to manipulate us into feeding the upper pendulum of society. I believe that kindness is the only thing that will allow you to feel free. I believe that if you love something, you will only gain from the experience, if you do it selflessly. I believe the world is now designed to mechanically deteriorate our brains to the point of maintaining our life and unteach us how to live it. I believe their forces are much stronger than ours. It takes someone special to conquer the obstacles they have erected against us all.
Where does that leave me? Still contemplating that. I have cancer at 35. It's getting redundant. My adulthood has centered around doctors. I know more about the Hippocratic oath than most premed students. I've had nearly every single brand of insurance that is currently offered. I can recite my twenty four pills in both generic and brand name forms. I can talk to any doctor like a champ, and get "good question" as a response from most. I'll always have medical debt. I have as many "health" apps on my phone as I do shopping apps. And I've had my will and final wishes done since I was 25 years old.
What a bleak and dark perspective on my life, right? I don't see it that way. I am strong. I am prepared. I love to crochet. I love to watch marathons of tv shows I was obsessed with when they were on tv in real time. I love reading three pages of a book and putting it down then playing solitaire for hours. Then picking up a completely different book. I adore the smell of English lavender and hate French lavender. How are they so different?! I love making travel plans, and I'm completely obsessed with checking out different hotels. I think swimming might be the greatest thing to do in the entire world. And I couldn't give two shits less how I look in a bikini, because I'm wearing one regardless. I love learning. Anything. Absolutely anything. I am a knowledge junkie. Give me something new to learn everyday and I feel complete. It's all I crave. Information. Give me what you got. Because of that, I know this much is true:
; My story isn't over. It may not be exciting. It may not be uplifting to most. I may not have anyone to share it with, and to some of you, that makes it worthless. But to me, it's not over yet. I have meaning to find. I have meaning to provide. So in the deeply poetic words of my television soul sister Max, from Two Broke Girls, know this, "I'm fine. I'll always be fine." Life's never been easy. But it's almost always worth it. I wish us all the level of success we see for ourselves. Best of luck to each and every single one of us.
Sunday, December 6, 2015
If I Could Accomplish Anything At All...
If
I could accomplish anything in the world, it would be to teach people how to
not hate. Love is so much better. In my own life, the things that I have been
hated for include being poor, being redheaded, being sexually promiscuous,
being outspoken, being smart, being on drugs, being friendly to the less
desirable class of people, being happy, being myself. I’m sure I could think of more, and I am
certain there are things I am unaware of, but that, was actually kind of
exhausting.
There
is always someone willing to hate you for whatever it is you are doing at the
time. I just had a stint with
cancer. I am sure someone hated me for
that. That, I was asking for attention,
or that I was getting attention that they wanted, or something else equally
absurd. I know that there were some that
hated that I told everyone and made it public rather than keeping it between
close family or friends. But really, I
don’t mind.
I
heard an old adage years ago that said something like, “if you’re not being
hated for something, then you’re not doing it right.” I believe that is true simply because of the
way human nature works; however, that doesn’t mean I think it’s right. I also heard one that goes like this, “I am
not competing with anyone; I hope we all make it.” I prefer the latter.
But
how do we get to a place of loving one another continually, including
ourselves, rather than putting envy, jealousy and hate out into the world for
others to feed off of? It’s not an easy
process that is for sure, but it is possible.
And take it from me, it’s just like anything else. You have to practice.
Jealousy
and envy are two of the ugliest emotions a person can have. Mostly, because they often are being taken
out on someone who has little or no control over what it is that you want. I have struggled with these over the years,
plenty. I come from meager means, to say
the least, and was inadvertently made to feel as though I was quite
special. My ego did not match my
means. I felt shorted, like the world
was making me work for things I should have been given naturally. I won’t go so far as to say I was
unattractive, but looks will only get you so far, especially if your personality
boasts an idea of being owed.
The
older I got, the more I saw people who came from backgrounds similar to mine,
but seemed to have their shit together.
One friend of mine in particular has always managed to make me feel
dreadful about myself, on accident of course.
I had it easy, I was smart, I was relatively attractive, I could make
people laugh, I could talk to just about anyone, I, consequently, didn’t work
hard for a whole lot that I ever had. This
girl, she busts her ass all the time with motivation I will never be able to
wrap my head around, and she has a life to show for it. I love her and I am so proud of her and
though I used to harbor some jealously toward the things she was able to accomplish,
I now honor her effort and take pride in the fact that she is my friend.
When
I finally was able to come to terms with the fact that I was a jealous person,
it was an ugly, black day. People often
questioned me as to why I didn’t do this or that. Why I wasn’t somewhere else, doing something
great. The potential is there. The work, isn’t. I have made poor choices in my life. I have made lazy choices in my life. I have received the life I worked to
get. And surprisingly, it’s been
hard. I believe the reason it’s been so
hard, is because it isn’t the life I am meant to have. By that I don’t mean that I am meant for
wealth and fame and beautiful things. I
mean that I am meant to be happy and joyous and surrounded by love. Yet for now, I am not. Though I see things changing every single
day.
Hard
choices came first. I was in a
profession that made me miserable. In
addition to making me miserable, as hard as I tried, (and I did try here), to
find a sense of integrity in the financial industry, it just isn’t there in big
enough segments to be able to live off of it.
You can feed the system every day with your effort and it will take it
and chew it up and spit it out. The
financial industry is for the dirty, devious, and deceitful at its worst, and
for the completely apathetic at its best.
It took a decade of my life, and a whole lot of my fight, but I finally
realized, I wasn’t going to change the system; rather, it was only changing me,
at least, suppressing me. In order to
save my soul, (yes, I believe that’s true), I had to get out, and move on. That meant two things, starting over
financially / professionally, and removing a certain sect of people from my
life. Of course, a lot of hate came from
that decision.
Upon
leaving the bank, I made myself a promise.
I would never again hide who I was, or what I wanted or needed from this
world, for anyone or anything. I would
wear what I want, look how I want, and do what I want. This concept of professionalism isn’t a look,
it’s an attitude, and I’m well equipped with the ability to treat people
correctly. But people have such a
massive misconception of me because of the professional façade I had to put
into the world to keep my job in the industry for so long. And I don’t mean to say that there are no
good people left in the field. I met
some. They are stronger than I am
because I couldn’t split my life into two pieces anymore. Freedom rushed over me and I began doing what
I wanted. It has been such a sweet
release.
I
have been working as a temp in order to try and figure out what it is that I
want to do with my life. Well, I’ve
always known I am a writer, but I need a day job. It’s a struggle when your heart is in a place
that won’t feed your life. But at least
now, I write.
While
this transformation has been taking place, I have also been making small steps
in redirecting my thought process and taking it away from hate and jealousy and
putting it on the path of love.
Immediately, I cut out everyone who I felt would be a negative
influence. Over the last year, I have
been reintroducing people into my life as I have let go of some of my own issues. A major lesson one must learn is this: you cannot control the way a person feels
about you; you may only control the way you feel toward them, and,
subsequently, how you act toward them.
If a person hates you, that doesn’t mean they have no place in your
life, or at least, they may not need eliminated from it. Rather, it may be a chance for you to embark
on a quest for truth. Learn what it is
that you have done to create such negativity.
If you come to the conclusion that you are not at any fault, then let go
and move on. If you are able to look
deep into that looking glass and see an error in your ways, then you have an
amazing opportunity for growth, and remorse.
Always apologize for the wrong you have done. Even if the other person won’t, or isn’t yet
willing to, accept it. You are
responsible for the emotions you emit to the universe. If you do not transmit remorse, then you are
allowing the hate to feed.
Once
you know you have done what you can to remove the negativity from your spirit,
then you have provided an open space for love.
This is the purpose for reintroducing people into my life. Not that I want anything from them, but that
I want them, the negative space they occupied or supplied, eradicated. I have to take charge of changing the path of
my thoughts. If I can allow someone to
be around or be inside of my life and not allow my positivity to be stolen by
their existence in it, then I am doing it right.
The
most effort I can make is this, every time a thought leaves my lips, allow
myself to process what it was. Be
conscious of my words. It’s a
struggle. My sarcasm knows no
bounds. It’s almost as natural as breathing
to me. So this is a BIG effort. But, I have done it. Every time I speak, I think, “what kind of an
impact might that have on the person it was directed to?” If it is a negative impact, then I retract
and redirect. If it is positive, then I let
it fly. If you continue to make this
effort, it will become more and more natural to you, and you will be able to
stop the harsh words before they come out at all.
Jealousy,
envy, though, are different monsters altogether. Like I said before, I was meant to feel like I
was entitled to a certain lifestyle because of the way I was raised. I put forth some effort into my life, and expected
the rewards to come. But things kept
getting worse. It wasn’t until I walked
away from everything I knew, that I became aware of the hindrance life had on
me. Like Fight Club teaches us, “it isn’t
until you walk away from everything, that you are free to do anything.” There were so many strongholds on me that I
wasn’t aware of. Abusive relationships,
work I hated, negative people who thought that appearances were everything,
guilt from things I had done in my own past, ignoring myself and my
spirit. I let it all go. The standards of others no longer have an
impact on my day to day life. When you
live your life according to the standards of others, whether it’s your friends
or your society, you are driven by a source of envy, a need to keep up with others,
rather than a desire to meet the demands of your life, your soul. And when we aren’t feeding our own soul, we
will never be able to find anything fulfilling in the least.
Today
I stand and say, I live by the desires of my own heart, and that which I believe
is the best and most progressive path for my existence. I believe in other people and their
potential. I promote rather than suppress. I live instead of exist. I have taken time to learn who I am and what
my soul desires. Eastern philosophy,
specifically Yogi principles, have taught me more than I could ever
envision. Our energies are everything. We must honor them and progress with
them. Meditation allows us to live in the
moment and honor that which is surrounding us. We are not promised another. There is no room for jealousy in such a
place. We have all we need within
us. Namaste-the divinity within me,
honors the divinity within you. We are
all the same, made up of the same energies, moving toward the same
existences. Our paths may vary, our
intentions may deviate, our words may falter, but our lives will always end up
the same. Knowing what I know now,
jealousy is pointless because we’re all the same. Hatred is pointless because we’re all the
same. I love myself. And I love you as well. Namaste my friends, my brothers and
sisters. May you know the depth of the
love you all possess.
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