Mind, Body, Spirit: Part Two

My friend, Dorge, who urged me to begin this blog, posted about realizing he had become a scrooge.  I commented that he was the person who taught me the meaning of the word "apathy," and my internal dictionary imposes a picture of his smirking face next to the word as a reminder.  I wrote to him, after reading and being moved by his lament, that I would try to move his face to "lament" instead.  I had to look up that word to be sure it fit what I was saying. 

Again, I'm only an English minor.

So I have been thinking along those lines; I need to give more without being a cynical bitch about it. 

When I was younger, I didn't really get to be a kid for long.  Some of it was my parents' fault, some of it was my own.  My mother was diagnosed with bipolar and spent time locked in her room or in hospitals.  My father wasn't around until I expressed interest in meeting him when I was eleven, which I would have done much earlier if I had known.  Add a perverted step-dad, some other perverts, way too much responsibility, and not enough positive attention, BAM!  Steph was a mess.

I gave.  And I gave.  Family, friends, boyfriends, enemies even.  I gave my time, energy, innocence, love, janitorial skills, money, rides, gifts, cooking prowess (ha), my soul!!  Okay, I got to soul and knew I was going a little far.  At least I stopped.

But really.  I gave a lot.  I used to drive friends around all of the time and my mom yelled at me for it.  "You're wasting all that gas and they don't even help you pay for it.  Don't be driving your friends around; they don't drive you around when you need it."  And she was right. 

But later in life I had to drive her around a lot.  I would say I was getting her back for all the times she drove me around, but Mom always acted like I was asking her a ride to the moon if I wanted to go anywhere I couldn't walk to.  I had just become a mother and I wanted my life with my family and I was damn bitter.  I needed to finally really focus on me and even more, my son.  I was tired of doing for other people and not getting anything in return most of the time. 

It took me awhile to learn to take care of myself.  Actually, the more accurate description would be "to become selfish."  I didn't realize that until recently.  I thought I was just thinking about myself, but no.  It was not as healthy as that should be.  So what do I deem healthy?  Glad you asked.

You shouldn't put other people's needs so far above your own that you neglect yourself.
You should care about how you make others feel.
You should communicate with others about how they make you feel.
You should give of yourself freely, but do not allow people to take advantage of you.
The best people to assist are those who are willing to help themselves.
If people can't help themselves, maybe you should help them when you can.
Most of all, help those who help you, and don't be afraid to ask for help when you need it. 

I may be wrong about some of these things being gospel, but I know that I need a little more love in my life.  In the coming year, I vow to do at least 3 charity walks, and not just sign up, but actually walk.  I also want to feed people who are hungry.  I want to show my mom I'm there for her when I can.  I want to volunteer at my son's school and take him to volunteer with me somewhere that helps less fortunate kids.  I will do these things and more.  I will help friends move, I'll babysit, and I'll bake. 

You bet your ass I'll write for every one of you also.  Try and keep up.

Mind, Body, Spirit: Part One

Inhale.  Exhale.  Clean air.  Too clean, even in this valley.  Seems it would be appreciated, but sometimes I forget how to appreciate things.  Now is one of those times.

It feels dark inside.  Lonely.  Where does strength go when I really need it?  I have to make it go away, the feelings of emptiness and uselessness.  I don't want your pity.  I'm not reaching out.  This is merely a request from a dear friend who wanted to read my mind.  I miss you and yours fiercely.  It used to be if I was lost, I could find myself inside your arms.  I need those arms.  These are excerpts from the things I've been writing:

I saw a girl and she was beautiful.  And she knew how to smile.  I'm sure she has known fear, but she has never been alone.  I wish I knew what that felt like--to not know how it feels to be alone.  Because, in life, once you're swept away, no anchor in sight, no land to reach for, it's so hard to ever trust that everything will be okay, to know that love is real, to find a secure place to be yourself.

Depression doesn't tie itself into a neat little box.  It's not just a change in attitude, an easy fix.  Sometimes it grabs me from behind and takes me in the night, gagged and bound.  When the blindfold is removed I still can't see the end.  My eyes strain.  Nothing.

Not that I enjoy nothing; it just feels like the default is set at "shitty."  Life isn't shitty.  Just me.  Does that mean something is wrong with me?  Do I need medication?  I don't want to be dependent on medication and I really don't think I need it.  It feels like that would just be trading one co-dependency for the next.  I depend on people too much, build my life around them.  Substances, self-medication.  Other bullshit.

Why don't I write more?  Sometimes I hate being a writer.  I try to resist it, even.  As much as it helps me, it's ridiculous how in touch with my emotions I have to be to write.  It seems it makes me vulnerable to this.  To wondering about and obsessing over all the endless possibilities and pieces of life without just enjoying it.  Damn being a woman, too. 

I used to insist I would age gracefully, but I was fucked up a lot back then, maybe delusional.  There's no grace in this fear of everything.  Before I had my child, I didn't really fear death.  In fact, I taunted it almost everyday in some way.  Now it feels like I'm dying, like everyday my cells flake away in the dry heat and it's a part of me that will never return.  But aren't we all dying?  That's why it's most important to enjoy the short time we do have without always worrying about the tomorrow that may or may not come.  Today.  Right now. 

I'm so scared of losing something I've never even had; it's just an idea to me, a happy family of my own.  Time together daily to connect without exhaustion being the cost.  Maybe it's in the future.  Maybe not. 

Change is hard; stagnation is worse.