Written 18 August 2012
Just when I think I’ve just come through the most bizarre time of my life, I seem to be faced with even more insane circumstances. Without going into too much detail, I have to say I’ve been confronted with one hectic scenario after the other, as life hurls a volley of shots at me that nothing could’ve prepared me for.
Today somebody put it into a universal, metaphysical context, saying that 2012 was in fact the end of an era, and that with such a time comes immense change. Many people I know have been saying that 2012 has also been a terrible year for them, so it seems there’s indeed truth to the universality of the unsettled nature of things.
********************************************************************************
It’s a Saturday and I’m sitting in my car, outside my children’s school, while they do whatever they’ve come to do. Decided it was a waste of time and petrol to drive home, as they’d just be busy for an hour. On the way home, I have to drop one of them somewhere. Once home, I’ll teach two guitar lessons, then take the other one somewhere else and pick up the first one. I’d planned to use the sunny weather today to do much-needed laundry, after all the icy, stormy weather, but it was not to be. Let’s just say “external factors” mitigated against me, and I couldn’t use my yard. No rain forecast for tomorrow, so I’ll get up tomorrow with the same plan and hope for a more friendly outcome.
In too many areas of my life, I feel the walls closing in on me, as I struggle to be who I am and to live my truth. In two weeks’ time, if all goes well, I’ll earn my first salary in five months, which will take care of one huge, lingering, festering problem. The job I’m in is a temporary one, and one to which I’m committed to giving my best, despite immense challenges.
I really do look forward to 2013, as I anticipate it being the complete opposite of 2012, with loads of opportunities and things that work out right, without all the difficulties this year’s had.
*******************************************************************************
Listening to one of Amy Winehouse’s albums. She had an old soul, that one, organically connected to music from an era long gone. Everytime I remember that she’s dead, I feel sad. I feel sad that the world won’t have the gift of her voice on any new albums or in live shows. But most of all, I feel sad because I’ve heard her lyrics and seen some documentary footage of her life, and I think she was a woman, like so many others, who made choices that brought her immense pain. Some of those choices resulted in her death at age 27. So sad and so avoidable.
A beautiful friend gave me an interesting book today: “How To Publish Your Own e-Book”. It was a strange feeling, because my life’s changed completely since I started this teaching post, and I have so much school-related reading to do, that I can’t read anything else for a while. Also, because my days are so full and tiring, I don’t really have much time for my artistic life. You can imagine how frustrating that is, especially as I was hoping to put the finishing touches to my recording by the end of August. That’s definitely not going to happen, as I’m taking a lot of strain in this job, and I’m constantly hoarse.
I woke up this morning, thinking of different ways to survive the next few months. I find myself teaching in an environment that requires me to be a very different person to who I am, and the biggest challenge I’m faced with is finding creative ways to lessen the gap between the two extremes. I love teaching, and I particularly love teaching English - especially literature - but I find myself in the strangest of situations, teaching children who seem to resist being taught! It’s the craziest thing ever! You can waste a third to half of every period dealing with unruly behaviour that prevents you from teaching what you’ve come prepared to teach. Absolutely amazing!
I’ve come to the conclusion that there are a few things that will get me through this contract: the fact that I now have a job, after four months of being unemployed, the fact that it’s actually a well-run school with good teachers and well-thought-out systems, the fact that earning a salary enables me to take better care of my children and, lastly, the possibility that I could make a difference to the life of even one of the children I teach, and, in so doing, set him/her on a journey towards authenticity and fulfillment.
You never know…..
Friday, 14 September 2012
The Rabbit Hole
Written 11 August 2012
Yesterday I picked up a DVD someone gave me about 7 years ago, and started watching it again. It’s called “What the bleep?”, also known as “Down the Rabbit Hole”. Like my two favourite books (“Women Who Run With the Wolves” and “The Art of Possibility”), this DVD is something I’ll never get tired of. It’s what could be called a documentary, I suppose, although it’s far more than that – I just don’t have the right term for it, right now. All I know is, it touches my soul every time I watch it. It affects me, moves me, disturbs and challenges me. It makes me think deeply about my choices, past, present and future.
“What the bleep?” explores the field of quantum physics and basically asserts, amongst other things, that there’s a myriad of possibilities for each of us, yet we somehow choose to do the same things in the same ways over and over again, opting for the safe, known choices. It challenges us to dare to explore other possibilities, to connect with the power inside of us and to fully exploit the fact that what’s inside of us is capable of determining what’s outside of us. We’re raised to react to external stimuli and to suppress strong tendencies, urges, drives from within; this group of theorists asserts that inner power is even more powerful than what we’re confronted with in the external world. This topic, articulated both scientifically and poetically by the different contributors, fascinates me – I love listening to the scientists talk about it and seeing the kinds of experiments they’ve done to prove their theories.
I’ve come to appreciate that life/the universe seems to keep bringing me the same message, over and over again. It’s been this way for many, many years: live YOUR truth. I have gone through successive relationships and jobs, getting it right for a while, but then missing the point – knowing the theory, but not internalizing it to the extent where I can honestly say I’m a Trudy-driven being, making my way through life fully living MY truth.
Let’s take the job scene, for example: in 1982, I left college as a qualified teacher, having completed a three-year diploma course, specializing in Junior Primary (now known as Foundation Phase). I applied to four schools, was accepted by one, and in January 1983, started teaching at a small, state-aided church school in the southern suburbs of Cape Town. I taught in the same classroom for the entire 14 years that I was there, and left the school when the government offered Voluntary Severance Packages to teachers, in some hare-brained scheme to reduce the number of teachers by 6000. Even though I regarded the government’s scheme as insane, I had many personal reasons for leaving. I had started studying part-time at UWC in my second year of teaching, and by the end of 1993, had completed my English Honours degree. That, as well as factors at the school and in my personal life, had made me restless, hungry for a new beginning.
In hindsight, I can see that that was actually the beginning of an extremely significant shift for me. I had, in fact, reached saturation point with my first career choice. I definitely did not want to teach little children anymore – I’d wanted to do so since I was a child, and after 14 years of it, knew that that was the end of that chapter. In the first three years after taking the package, I studied some computer courses, got a Public Relations Certificate, had my second child, and then did a short course of study which took me into my next line of work, teaching English as a foreign language. I started in that industry (EFL) in 1999 and worked continuously until early 2006.
Then, after having to close my own language school, I went back on my promise to myself and accepted a teaching contract at a high school fraught with problems. I stayed there for 18 months. Some of the things I experienced there, a decade after leaving the government school system, shook me to my core, and I realized how much I had changed. I also realised that, when you’ve been working in the private sector, especially at management level, you think and operate very differently to people who’ve only ever worked in the government school system. I had to do a lot of soul searching and what I’d call behaviour-and-demeanour modification, to survive. In the last term of my contract, I was offered a position as assistant manager of an established EFL school, and I jumped at the opportunity to return to the industry I’d grown to love. What I learnt, when I was retrenched from that position, almost three years later, was that a ‘permanent’ job can be here today and gone tomorrow. You have to appreciate what you have when you have it, and celebrate life’s blessings when you have them; take nothing for granted.
My tumultuous journey since my retrenchment has brought me repeatedly to a set of truths about myself. I’ve also come to understand that knowing your truth and living your truth are two very different things. I can say with all honesty that I know my truth. Am I living it, though? That’s another story altogether.
One of the fascinating dynamics about us all is that we have these different voices inside our heads, telling us all kinds of things. Whose voice we choose to listen to is what ends up directing our paths. For too many of us, the voice we listen to is not our own, but rather a powerful voice, usually an authority figure from our childhood, that tells us who we are and what we should do….. from that person’s perspective. The truth is that, for people who know they’ve changed since that initial career choice, that is no longer the voice you should be listening to.
One often hears this advice given to people who are striving to realize some dream or other: “Surround yourself with people who believe in, and support, you and your dream”. It’s a completely insane, out-of-body kind of feeling to know, with every fibre of your being, who you are and what your heart desires, and then to be told by people that you’re actually someone they knew thirty years ago, someone you know you stopped being long, long ago.
It’s also interesting how families often make no room for this kind of change, this career shift phenomenon that is experienced by millions of people all over the world; any little thing can be used to justify their theory of what’s right for you. Be perceived as having failed at your new venture, and that’s all the fuel they need to say, “You should’ve stuck to…! Why don’t you just find a nice … job?”
In less than a month I turn 51. There are some voices I need to shut out of my head, once and for all, especially on certain topics. It’s about time! I need to listen to my own voice more, follow my own path, my own truth. Because only I know what makes my heart sing. I know what makes my spirit soar, and I know what puts a smile on my face that just won’t go away. I know. I’ve always known. Ever since I was a child.
So, call me idealistic, unrealistic, blah blah blah – I still know who I am. I will go as far down the rabbit hole as my instincts tell me to.
How far are you prepared to go?
Yesterday I picked up a DVD someone gave me about 7 years ago, and started watching it again. It’s called “What the bleep?”, also known as “Down the Rabbit Hole”. Like my two favourite books (“Women Who Run With the Wolves” and “The Art of Possibility”), this DVD is something I’ll never get tired of. It’s what could be called a documentary, I suppose, although it’s far more than that – I just don’t have the right term for it, right now. All I know is, it touches my soul every time I watch it. It affects me, moves me, disturbs and challenges me. It makes me think deeply about my choices, past, present and future.
“What the bleep?” explores the field of quantum physics and basically asserts, amongst other things, that there’s a myriad of possibilities for each of us, yet we somehow choose to do the same things in the same ways over and over again, opting for the safe, known choices. It challenges us to dare to explore other possibilities, to connect with the power inside of us and to fully exploit the fact that what’s inside of us is capable of determining what’s outside of us. We’re raised to react to external stimuli and to suppress strong tendencies, urges, drives from within; this group of theorists asserts that inner power is even more powerful than what we’re confronted with in the external world. This topic, articulated both scientifically and poetically by the different contributors, fascinates me – I love listening to the scientists talk about it and seeing the kinds of experiments they’ve done to prove their theories.
I’ve come to appreciate that life/the universe seems to keep bringing me the same message, over and over again. It’s been this way for many, many years: live YOUR truth. I have gone through successive relationships and jobs, getting it right for a while, but then missing the point – knowing the theory, but not internalizing it to the extent where I can honestly say I’m a Trudy-driven being, making my way through life fully living MY truth.
Let’s take the job scene, for example: in 1982, I left college as a qualified teacher, having completed a three-year diploma course, specializing in Junior Primary (now known as Foundation Phase). I applied to four schools, was accepted by one, and in January 1983, started teaching at a small, state-aided church school in the southern suburbs of Cape Town. I taught in the same classroom for the entire 14 years that I was there, and left the school when the government offered Voluntary Severance Packages to teachers, in some hare-brained scheme to reduce the number of teachers by 6000. Even though I regarded the government’s scheme as insane, I had many personal reasons for leaving. I had started studying part-time at UWC in my second year of teaching, and by the end of 1993, had completed my English Honours degree. That, as well as factors at the school and in my personal life, had made me restless, hungry for a new beginning.
In hindsight, I can see that that was actually the beginning of an extremely significant shift for me. I had, in fact, reached saturation point with my first career choice. I definitely did not want to teach little children anymore – I’d wanted to do so since I was a child, and after 14 years of it, knew that that was the end of that chapter. In the first three years after taking the package, I studied some computer courses, got a Public Relations Certificate, had my second child, and then did a short course of study which took me into my next line of work, teaching English as a foreign language. I started in that industry (EFL) in 1999 and worked continuously until early 2006.
Then, after having to close my own language school, I went back on my promise to myself and accepted a teaching contract at a high school fraught with problems. I stayed there for 18 months. Some of the things I experienced there, a decade after leaving the government school system, shook me to my core, and I realized how much I had changed. I also realised that, when you’ve been working in the private sector, especially at management level, you think and operate very differently to people who’ve only ever worked in the government school system. I had to do a lot of soul searching and what I’d call behaviour-and-demeanour modification, to survive. In the last term of my contract, I was offered a position as assistant manager of an established EFL school, and I jumped at the opportunity to return to the industry I’d grown to love. What I learnt, when I was retrenched from that position, almost three years later, was that a ‘permanent’ job can be here today and gone tomorrow. You have to appreciate what you have when you have it, and celebrate life’s blessings when you have them; take nothing for granted.
My tumultuous journey since my retrenchment has brought me repeatedly to a set of truths about myself. I’ve also come to understand that knowing your truth and living your truth are two very different things. I can say with all honesty that I know my truth. Am I living it, though? That’s another story altogether.
One of the fascinating dynamics about us all is that we have these different voices inside our heads, telling us all kinds of things. Whose voice we choose to listen to is what ends up directing our paths. For too many of us, the voice we listen to is not our own, but rather a powerful voice, usually an authority figure from our childhood, that tells us who we are and what we should do….. from that person’s perspective. The truth is that, for people who know they’ve changed since that initial career choice, that is no longer the voice you should be listening to.
One often hears this advice given to people who are striving to realize some dream or other: “Surround yourself with people who believe in, and support, you and your dream”. It’s a completely insane, out-of-body kind of feeling to know, with every fibre of your being, who you are and what your heart desires, and then to be told by people that you’re actually someone they knew thirty years ago, someone you know you stopped being long, long ago.
It’s also interesting how families often make no room for this kind of change, this career shift phenomenon that is experienced by millions of people all over the world; any little thing can be used to justify their theory of what’s right for you. Be perceived as having failed at your new venture, and that’s all the fuel they need to say, “You should’ve stuck to…! Why don’t you just find a nice … job?”
In less than a month I turn 51. There are some voices I need to shut out of my head, once and for all, especially on certain topics. It’s about time! I need to listen to my own voice more, follow my own path, my own truth. Because only I know what makes my heart sing. I know what makes my spirit soar, and I know what puts a smile on my face that just won’t go away. I know. I’ve always known. Ever since I was a child.
So, call me idealistic, unrealistic, blah blah blah – I still know who I am. I will go as far down the rabbit hole as my instincts tell me to.
How far are you prepared to go?
National Women's Day (South Africa) & Dr Dawn Garisch
Written 09 August 2012
Today we commemorated the day in 1956, when thousands of South African women marched in protest against the unjust system of government at the time, specifically against the Pass Laws. Funny how it’s become a day when different groups organize pamper parties, etc. for women. I suppose, because it’s a public holiday and the focus is on women, it’s become open to interpretation. So what did I do, besides the usual domestic and family stuff? I was invited to join a good friend and some of her friends at a women’s breakfast in aid of St Luke’s Hospice, a very worthy cause.
For me, it was a hugely significant morning. The guest speaker was Dr Dawn Garisch, a medical doctor who’s also a writer. I was intrigued by the way she introduced herself as “a writer who does some doctoring” – her point being that you can choose how you want to describe or define yourself. This, of course, is something I feel passionate about.
Dawn Garisch is someone who played an important role in my life, six years ago. I called a MediCross centre, asked for an appointment, and she was the doctor assigned to me. I thought I had a fish bone stuck in my throat, but she couldn’t find anything there. She did, however, give me a thorough examination and found that I had some other problem, which necessitated surgery. It was a major turning point in my life, and I have her to thank for it. Her thoroughness resulted in timeous intervention, which saved me from further complications. I will always be grateful for how she conducted herself that day, both during the examination as well as when she counseled me about the surgery.
A few things about today’s gathering are on my mind. Firstly, it was really nice to be part of a huge group of women, coming together for such a worthy cause, relaxing and being educated at the same time. St Luke’s Hospice is an incredible organisation, with volunteers who do the most courageous and selfless things to help out in practical ways or raise funds. I love being around my friend who’d invited me – we go back many years – and I’m starting to get to know her friends, all very interesting women. Today I met someone I hadn’t met before, and it was one of those occasions where, a few minutes into our conversation, we’d made a strong connection. I look forward to exploring that friendship, as we have so much in common. Women need to support each other. It’s very important.
Listening to Dawn Garisch was very special to me; after the event, I sought her out and thanked her for her intervention in my life 6 years ago. I’m becoming increasingly aware that good energy finds its way back into our lives, either through the same people who brought it initially, or through new people who come into our lives. Today, I felt the wonderful energy of so many people I interacted with.
But there was one kind of energy I experienced today that reminded me that there’ll always be people who miss the plot and who are so constricted by the fetters of institutionalized religion, that they fail to accept anything in a form other than the neatly-wrapped package to which they’re accustomed. Somewhere in her presentation, Dr Garisch had alluded to the Theory of Evolution, and in the Q&A session, some simpleton got up and challenged her about her “belief” in the theory, going on a rant about being a born-again Christian. She kept asking questions, seemingly trying to catch the speaker out, or trap her into confessing that she didn’t believe in God. Said born-again didn’t understand that Q&A time was for everyone, and not just her, to have an opportunity to ask questions. She polluted the room with her toxic smugness and effectively silenced everyone else, ruining what had been a nurturing atmosphere, filled with mutual respect and appreciation of the work being done by St Luke’s Hospice and doctors like Dawn Garisch.
I’m sure she didn’t buy any of Dawn’s books that were on sale.
And I’m equally sure that, as she drove home, she thanked God that she had worn that particular designer outfit, and also expressed her relief that she wasn’t as ignorant as some people.
And life goes on – and on and on.
Today we commemorated the day in 1956, when thousands of South African women marched in protest against the unjust system of government at the time, specifically against the Pass Laws. Funny how it’s become a day when different groups organize pamper parties, etc. for women. I suppose, because it’s a public holiday and the focus is on women, it’s become open to interpretation. So what did I do, besides the usual domestic and family stuff? I was invited to join a good friend and some of her friends at a women’s breakfast in aid of St Luke’s Hospice, a very worthy cause.
For me, it was a hugely significant morning. The guest speaker was Dr Dawn Garisch, a medical doctor who’s also a writer. I was intrigued by the way she introduced herself as “a writer who does some doctoring” – her point being that you can choose how you want to describe or define yourself. This, of course, is something I feel passionate about.
Dawn Garisch is someone who played an important role in my life, six years ago. I called a MediCross centre, asked for an appointment, and she was the doctor assigned to me. I thought I had a fish bone stuck in my throat, but she couldn’t find anything there. She did, however, give me a thorough examination and found that I had some other problem, which necessitated surgery. It was a major turning point in my life, and I have her to thank for it. Her thoroughness resulted in timeous intervention, which saved me from further complications. I will always be grateful for how she conducted herself that day, both during the examination as well as when she counseled me about the surgery.
A few things about today’s gathering are on my mind. Firstly, it was really nice to be part of a huge group of women, coming together for such a worthy cause, relaxing and being educated at the same time. St Luke’s Hospice is an incredible organisation, with volunteers who do the most courageous and selfless things to help out in practical ways or raise funds. I love being around my friend who’d invited me – we go back many years – and I’m starting to get to know her friends, all very interesting women. Today I met someone I hadn’t met before, and it was one of those occasions where, a few minutes into our conversation, we’d made a strong connection. I look forward to exploring that friendship, as we have so much in common. Women need to support each other. It’s very important.
Listening to Dawn Garisch was very special to me; after the event, I sought her out and thanked her for her intervention in my life 6 years ago. I’m becoming increasingly aware that good energy finds its way back into our lives, either through the same people who brought it initially, or through new people who come into our lives. Today, I felt the wonderful energy of so many people I interacted with.
But there was one kind of energy I experienced today that reminded me that there’ll always be people who miss the plot and who are so constricted by the fetters of institutionalized religion, that they fail to accept anything in a form other than the neatly-wrapped package to which they’re accustomed. Somewhere in her presentation, Dr Garisch had alluded to the Theory of Evolution, and in the Q&A session, some simpleton got up and challenged her about her “belief” in the theory, going on a rant about being a born-again Christian. She kept asking questions, seemingly trying to catch the speaker out, or trap her into confessing that she didn’t believe in God. Said born-again didn’t understand that Q&A time was for everyone, and not just her, to have an opportunity to ask questions. She polluted the room with her toxic smugness and effectively silenced everyone else, ruining what had been a nurturing atmosphere, filled with mutual respect and appreciation of the work being done by St Luke’s Hospice and doctors like Dawn Garisch.
I’m sure she didn’t buy any of Dawn’s books that were on sale.
And I’m equally sure that, as she drove home, she thanked God that she had worn that particular designer outfit, and also expressed her relief that she wasn’t as ignorant as some people.
And life goes on – and on and on.
Early August & Health Scare
Written 03 August 2012
This is nice! Just after 10:30 on a Friday night and I’m in bed! WHAT?! I’ve been itching to write for days, but have just been way too busy.
First of all, I can’t believe it’s AUGUST! I feel like my year’s hardly started! I can see by the trees that spring’s on its way, but the air is still ice cold. We’ve had a few nice days, recently, but now that it’s the weekend, we’re looking at some rain again.
This past week has been one of a kind: I went for two job interviews on Monday, was accepted for one of the posts on Tuesday, and on Wednesday, my first day in the new job, was accepted for the other one. The crazy thing is that I turned down the second one, even though it was a permanent job, and decided to stay in the temp job I had just committed myself to. The main reason I didn’t take the permanent job was that agreeing to take on the logistics of getting to the place was like begging the universe to complicate my life immensely.
In fact, I’d decided, once I’d given it some thought, that it was actually perfect for me to take the 4-month post, enjoy the experience as much as I could, and then apply for something as from January 2013. I have a feeling that next year’s going to see my energy bounce back and that this new wave I’m feeling now will continue to swell and grow.
All I know is that, with every decision I make, these days, I learn to know myself better. I’m still making mistakes, still unsure of so many things, probably more in the red than I’ve ever been, and yet…. I think the wheel has indeed begun to turn. The challenge for me is to continue to live my truth, walk the talk, strive to maintain balance, read the signs when I lose the balance, and know how to effectively restore it.
********************************************************************************
Oh, my! How strange that those would be my thoughts at bedtime, when a few hours later I’d get a huge scare about my health and well-being.
It’s just after 06:30, the next morning. This morning at 00:45, I was awoken by my mom’s coughing (she’s here for an overnight visit), and as soon as I woke up, I realised something was wrong with me – not just a sore throat or a headache, but a set of symptoms that had me very worried. My head felt thick and woozy, like I couldn’t keep my balance. My chest was tight, my arms felt heavy and I was experiencing tingling in my arms and hands, as well as my feet. I got up, gave my mom cough syrup and got back into bed. I lay there for a while, hoping I’d start to feel ok, but no matter how I lay, I just felt worse and worse. Started imagining all kinds of things, so I decided I needed to get to a doctor. I was so dizzy, I knew I shouldn’t get behind the wheel. I drafted an sms to my neighbour, but didn’t send it for about 45 minutes, hoping that the feeling would go away and I wouldn’t have to bother anyone. My head had begun to throb and I was a bit nauseous.
Eventually, convinced I was heading for a heart attack, I got up, sent the sms and went to tell my mom what was happening. My neighbour phoned back and within minutes was driving me to the nearest hospital.
Got to the hospital, they asked a lot of questions, did an ECG and various blood tests, checked my BP, let me sleep for a while and later did another ECG and another set of BP checks. After all of that, I’d started to feel ok again and the doc said he could find nothing wrong with me, there was no medication he could give me, and that I should just “take it easy for a few days”. My goodness – if only it were that simple. But I’ll try, for sure. Instead of doing the whole mountain of laundry, I’ll select the urgent items.
What I do know is that I have never been as stressed as I have in the past four months, and tonight’s experience was a wake-up call to me. Stress always ends up showing through physical symptoms. I need to reverse that and make sure the happiness I’ll be generating will spread to my cells and infuse my entire body with peace and well-being.
This is nice! Just after 10:30 on a Friday night and I’m in bed! WHAT?! I’ve been itching to write for days, but have just been way too busy.
First of all, I can’t believe it’s AUGUST! I feel like my year’s hardly started! I can see by the trees that spring’s on its way, but the air is still ice cold. We’ve had a few nice days, recently, but now that it’s the weekend, we’re looking at some rain again.
This past week has been one of a kind: I went for two job interviews on Monday, was accepted for one of the posts on Tuesday, and on Wednesday, my first day in the new job, was accepted for the other one. The crazy thing is that I turned down the second one, even though it was a permanent job, and decided to stay in the temp job I had just committed myself to. The main reason I didn’t take the permanent job was that agreeing to take on the logistics of getting to the place was like begging the universe to complicate my life immensely.
In fact, I’d decided, once I’d given it some thought, that it was actually perfect for me to take the 4-month post, enjoy the experience as much as I could, and then apply for something as from January 2013. I have a feeling that next year’s going to see my energy bounce back and that this new wave I’m feeling now will continue to swell and grow.
All I know is that, with every decision I make, these days, I learn to know myself better. I’m still making mistakes, still unsure of so many things, probably more in the red than I’ve ever been, and yet…. I think the wheel has indeed begun to turn. The challenge for me is to continue to live my truth, walk the talk, strive to maintain balance, read the signs when I lose the balance, and know how to effectively restore it.
********************************************************************************
Oh, my! How strange that those would be my thoughts at bedtime, when a few hours later I’d get a huge scare about my health and well-being.
It’s just after 06:30, the next morning. This morning at 00:45, I was awoken by my mom’s coughing (she’s here for an overnight visit), and as soon as I woke up, I realised something was wrong with me – not just a sore throat or a headache, but a set of symptoms that had me very worried. My head felt thick and woozy, like I couldn’t keep my balance. My chest was tight, my arms felt heavy and I was experiencing tingling in my arms and hands, as well as my feet. I got up, gave my mom cough syrup and got back into bed. I lay there for a while, hoping I’d start to feel ok, but no matter how I lay, I just felt worse and worse. Started imagining all kinds of things, so I decided I needed to get to a doctor. I was so dizzy, I knew I shouldn’t get behind the wheel. I drafted an sms to my neighbour, but didn’t send it for about 45 minutes, hoping that the feeling would go away and I wouldn’t have to bother anyone. My head had begun to throb and I was a bit nauseous.
Eventually, convinced I was heading for a heart attack, I got up, sent the sms and went to tell my mom what was happening. My neighbour phoned back and within minutes was driving me to the nearest hospital.
Got to the hospital, they asked a lot of questions, did an ECG and various blood tests, checked my BP, let me sleep for a while and later did another ECG and another set of BP checks. After all of that, I’d started to feel ok again and the doc said he could find nothing wrong with me, there was no medication he could give me, and that I should just “take it easy for a few days”. My goodness – if only it were that simple. But I’ll try, for sure. Instead of doing the whole mountain of laundry, I’ll select the urgent items.
What I do know is that I have never been as stressed as I have in the past four months, and tonight’s experience was a wake-up call to me. Stress always ends up showing through physical symptoms. I need to reverse that and make sure the happiness I’ll be generating will spread to my cells and infuse my entire body with peace and well-being.
Wednesday, 18 July 2012
Mommy Bloggers
Written 02 July 2012
Another busy day, but unlike any other day in many respects. My first thoughts, on waking, were of my mom, and I think that’s going to be with me for a while. Day 1 with mom living a few suburbs away. Very different energy without her close by. So it was a new day, a new month and a whole new phase for us all. Filled my car’s boot and backseat with recycling and other things, and took a drive to the dump. Always feels good to do that kind of thing, especially when it means I’m creating space at home.
So, as I promised myself, I sorted out the lounge to the point where I can comfortably have my lessons there tomorrow. My students will be surprised to see the piano! As a child, I got used to having a piano around, and I also had one in the house when I was married, and now I realise how having a piano in the house makes it feel “right”, somehow – like a home.
Just watched the movie, “Legends of the Fall”, with Brad Pitt and Anthony Hopkins. I have seen it probably eight times by now, and I never tire of it; it’s a strong story, with strong actors, and the setting is spectacular. I find the characters convincing and the many twists and turns in the story dramatic, but highly credible, even true to life.
I cut my left hand on a piece of broken glass, today, and this evening, when I picked up my guitar to play, I realised the cut was on a part of my hand that made contact with the guitar. Ouch! Also, I’ll have to get myself some rubber gloves for the laundry. I’m normally very careful with my hands, but today this pointed piece of broken glass took me by surprise, piercing my skin before I’d seen it.
Almost 2a.m. Can’t sleep. I should try winding down now. Early rise tomorrow, for English tutoring session.
********************************************************************************
I recently heard the term, “mommy bloggers”, and I wondered if I fell into that category. What is a mommy blogger? And why does it sound so deprecating? Are mommy bloggers less “legit”?!
All of a sudden, I’m extremely tired. Yawwwwwn!
****************************************************************************
Another busy day, but unlike any other day in many respects. My first thoughts, on waking, were of my mom, and I think that’s going to be with me for a while. Day 1 with mom living a few suburbs away. Very different energy without her close by. So it was a new day, a new month and a whole new phase for us all. Filled my car’s boot and backseat with recycling and other things, and took a drive to the dump. Always feels good to do that kind of thing, especially when it means I’m creating space at home.
So, as I promised myself, I sorted out the lounge to the point where I can comfortably have my lessons there tomorrow. My students will be surprised to see the piano! As a child, I got used to having a piano around, and I also had one in the house when I was married, and now I realise how having a piano in the house makes it feel “right”, somehow – like a home.
Just watched the movie, “Legends of the Fall”, with Brad Pitt and Anthony Hopkins. I have seen it probably eight times by now, and I never tire of it; it’s a strong story, with strong actors, and the setting is spectacular. I find the characters convincing and the many twists and turns in the story dramatic, but highly credible, even true to life.
I cut my left hand on a piece of broken glass, today, and this evening, when I picked up my guitar to play, I realised the cut was on a part of my hand that made contact with the guitar. Ouch! Also, I’ll have to get myself some rubber gloves for the laundry. I’m normally very careful with my hands, but today this pointed piece of broken glass took me by surprise, piercing my skin before I’d seen it.
Almost 2a.m. Can’t sleep. I should try winding down now. Early rise tomorrow, for English tutoring session.
********************************************************************************
I recently heard the term, “mommy bloggers”, and I wondered if I fell into that category. What is a mommy blogger? And why does it sound so deprecating? Are mommy bloggers less “legit”?!
All of a sudden, I’m extremely tired. Yawwwwwn!
****************************************************************************
Written 01 July 2012
Seems like Sunday morning, once again, is the best time for me to blog.
Today I’m feeling ALL the effects of my mother’s move from the granny flat on our premises. I’ve spent the past two days packing up my mother’s belongings and cleaning the flatlet, as well as handling the logistics of the three different people who physically moved the furniture: my brother- in-law moved some of the things, a moving company moved others (into my house) and an old age home fetched the balance, which my mom donated.
Today, my body’s sore (in places I didn’t even know I had muscles) from the physicality of the past two days, and my sinuses are crazy from the dust. The next phase of the move started straight after my mom left with my sis and her husband, as my children and I moved furniture and boxes around in our lounge, to get it to its new configuration. I wish I could take the next week to sort that out, but I teach guitar lessons there, so I have to make it as organised as I can by the time I go to bed tonight!
Other, less visible, effects are, of course, the huge emotional aspects of this kind of change. My mom’s been here for 5 years, and she’s been part of our household, a constant in my life. The difference between how she was when she moved in (strong, confident, sassy, independent, bright, cheerful, in control, funny) and how she is now (timid, withdrawn, over-apologetic, fearful, frustrated by her memory-related confusion), is striking. I’ve come face to face with issues about life and ageing that I’d never seen from close-up before. It changes you, makes you more compassionate, more appreciative of the faculties you still have. As my relationship with her assumes its new context, I have an ongoing responsibility to be loving and consistent, considerate and patient. As I buzz through my own activities, stressing my way from day to day, it’s not always easy to shift gears, slow down and be totally in the moment. But it’s not impossible.
I went into my kitchen to make a cup of tea, now, but there are so many boxes all over, I changed my mind! Today I have to make a few trips to the dump, to take away recycling and other stuff. It will clear floor space that’s now too cluttered for normal life to take place, and it will help me recreate a semblance of order. I have to add, though: anyone who’s ever been into my home, knows that calling it “order” is a real stretch of the imagination! But I think my mom’s move has taught me quite a few lessons about how I’ve been living and how I’d prefer to live, from now on.
I’ve always accepted (on some level) that physical clutter was a reflection of emotional/psychological issues, and this experience – my mom’s move – has made me realise not only how true this is, but also how labour-intensive it is to undo! The process of changing all of this has most definitely begun, for us as a little family. My children needed to reconfigure their bedrooms, as they both acquired furniture from my mom. In the process, they got rid of other items and did major uncluttering of their space. My son emptied a huge trunk of toys that had been in his room since we moved here, 15 years ago. Believe me, that’s been on his “To Do” list for at least 5 years! I suppose children take their cues from the adults around them. If your parent is a hoarder, you unconsciously emulate that. It was interesting to watch them, over the past two days, as they planned the new layouts of their rooms and then brought their ideas into reality. Very cool. I’m so proud of those two. This is the first time I’ve experienced this kind of thing with them being old enough to do their own planning and executing, so it was fascinating to watch them at work. I look forward to the day that financial constraints don’t limit us every step of the way, and that we can exercise our creativity with more fun, more options.
And so I proceed into the new day. Another rainy day, I might add. Good for the garden and typical of this time of the year for us (July’s our rainiest month), but not what I need as I consider the next mountain of family laundry waiting - just for me. Have I mentioned that I hate housework, especially laundry? You know what I hate the most about washing by hand? Washing socks! My children (and all their friends) have a habit of walking around in their socks, without shoes – so you can imagine what the socks look like afterwards! I keep threatening to make them wash their own socks, but I never act on it. Like any normal mother, my fervent prayer is simply this: that they’ll one day have their own children who do the same to them. :-)
My life feels both crazier than ever and like it’s about to start getting better – hard to explain. I have some health issues to check out at the doctor – seems like prolonged stress is taking its toll. At the same time – isn’t this a typical Trudy story - I have a recording studio appointment for next week, when I’ll record four of my own songs! A dream come true, made possible only through the generosity of a benefactor, a friend who believes in me. How cool is that?!
As I sit in bed now, sinuses amok, eyes itching, body aching and entire being flooded with the emotions of the family changes, the idea of even BEING in a studio, let alone RECORDING my work with one of my favourite musicians and one of the best sound guys in our country seems unreal. And yet, as I continue to sort out my house over the next week (let’s be honest, it will take at least that long!), I’ll also have to factor in daily practice sessions, as I prepare to record.
So…..as usual…..never a dull moment…..life goes on…..until the next instalment. :-)
Today I’m feeling ALL the effects of my mother’s move from the granny flat on our premises. I’ve spent the past two days packing up my mother’s belongings and cleaning the flatlet, as well as handling the logistics of the three different people who physically moved the furniture: my brother- in-law moved some of the things, a moving company moved others (into my house) and an old age home fetched the balance, which my mom donated.
Today, my body’s sore (in places I didn’t even know I had muscles) from the physicality of the past two days, and my sinuses are crazy from the dust. The next phase of the move started straight after my mom left with my sis and her husband, as my children and I moved furniture and boxes around in our lounge, to get it to its new configuration. I wish I could take the next week to sort that out, but I teach guitar lessons there, so I have to make it as organised as I can by the time I go to bed tonight!
Other, less visible, effects are, of course, the huge emotional aspects of this kind of change. My mom’s been here for 5 years, and she’s been part of our household, a constant in my life. The difference between how she was when she moved in (strong, confident, sassy, independent, bright, cheerful, in control, funny) and how she is now (timid, withdrawn, over-apologetic, fearful, frustrated by her memory-related confusion), is striking. I’ve come face to face with issues about life and ageing that I’d never seen from close-up before. It changes you, makes you more compassionate, more appreciative of the faculties you still have. As my relationship with her assumes its new context, I have an ongoing responsibility to be loving and consistent, considerate and patient. As I buzz through my own activities, stressing my way from day to day, it’s not always easy to shift gears, slow down and be totally in the moment. But it’s not impossible.
I went into my kitchen to make a cup of tea, now, but there are so many boxes all over, I changed my mind! Today I have to make a few trips to the dump, to take away recycling and other stuff. It will clear floor space that’s now too cluttered for normal life to take place, and it will help me recreate a semblance of order. I have to add, though: anyone who’s ever been into my home, knows that calling it “order” is a real stretch of the imagination! But I think my mom’s move has taught me quite a few lessons about how I’ve been living and how I’d prefer to live, from now on.
I’ve always accepted (on some level) that physical clutter was a reflection of emotional/psychological issues, and this experience – my mom’s move – has made me realise not only how true this is, but also how labour-intensive it is to undo! The process of changing all of this has most definitely begun, for us as a little family. My children needed to reconfigure their bedrooms, as they both acquired furniture from my mom. In the process, they got rid of other items and did major uncluttering of their space. My son emptied a huge trunk of toys that had been in his room since we moved here, 15 years ago. Believe me, that’s been on his “To Do” list for at least 5 years! I suppose children take their cues from the adults around them. If your parent is a hoarder, you unconsciously emulate that. It was interesting to watch them, over the past two days, as they planned the new layouts of their rooms and then brought their ideas into reality. Very cool. I’m so proud of those two. This is the first time I’ve experienced this kind of thing with them being old enough to do their own planning and executing, so it was fascinating to watch them at work. I look forward to the day that financial constraints don’t limit us every step of the way, and that we can exercise our creativity with more fun, more options.
And so I proceed into the new day. Another rainy day, I might add. Good for the garden and typical of this time of the year for us (July’s our rainiest month), but not what I need as I consider the next mountain of family laundry waiting - just for me. Have I mentioned that I hate housework, especially laundry? You know what I hate the most about washing by hand? Washing socks! My children (and all their friends) have a habit of walking around in their socks, without shoes – so you can imagine what the socks look like afterwards! I keep threatening to make them wash their own socks, but I never act on it. Like any normal mother, my fervent prayer is simply this: that they’ll one day have their own children who do the same to them. :-)
My life feels both crazier than ever and like it’s about to start getting better – hard to explain. I have some health issues to check out at the doctor – seems like prolonged stress is taking its toll. At the same time – isn’t this a typical Trudy story - I have a recording studio appointment for next week, when I’ll record four of my own songs! A dream come true, made possible only through the generosity of a benefactor, a friend who believes in me. How cool is that?!
As I sit in bed now, sinuses amok, eyes itching, body aching and entire being flooded with the emotions of the family changes, the idea of even BEING in a studio, let alone RECORDING my work with one of my favourite musicians and one of the best sound guys in our country seems unreal. And yet, as I continue to sort out my house over the next week (let’s be honest, it will take at least that long!), I’ll also have to factor in daily practice sessions, as I prepare to record.
So…..as usual…..never a dull moment…..life goes on…..until the next instalment. :-)
Friday, 29 June 2012
Entropy
Written 24 June 2012
Slouching in bed. Sunday morning. Decided to be indulgent and just stay under the covers for a few hours. Why the hell not? Every day I buzz around like a maniac, trying to live 5 lives in one, and wearing myself out in the process. Why? If I stay in bed till midday today, then get up and work till my children return this evening, I’ll still finish all the important things and I’ll have had some relaxing Me Time. So, yup – that’s the plan. This is one of the nice parts of being single. :-)
Back in bed, a few minutes later, this time with a cup of coffee and two slices of toast. My best friend gave me two avos, bordering on over-ripeness, perfect for toast. Some salt, black pepper, a few drops of fresh lemon and, Voila! .... a veritable feast! Mmmm….
I’ve set my alarm for midday; I’m enjoying myself so much, I could easily stay here and write/snooze/read all day. In fact, I look forward to doing exactly that, one day. Soon.
I write signs with the day and date for my mom, every day. She’s experiencing memory loss, and it includes disorientation regarding time (day, date and clock time). If I only get up at midday, she’ll be confused till I put the signs up. Actually, I’m sure she could figure out from yesterday’s signs what today is. She’s probably sleeping till noon, anyway.
Brrrr, it’s COLD!!!!! Winter’s here, Cape Town!!!
My mom moves to my sister’s house, in a week’s time. For at least 15 years, my mom has lived independently. In fact, it’s been much longer than 15: she owned her own home in Bloemfontein, for about 3 years, in the late 1980’s. I don’t know why, but I never visited her in Bloem. She had a whole life there: a job with the Performing Arts Council (singing opera), a community of colleagues and friends, and her own home. If I’m not mistaken, that was the only time she’d ever lived in her own home. My niece, Kim, went up by plane (unaccompanied, at about age 6), and spent some time with her during one school holiday.
So, in 6 days’ time, life changes for us all. My mom’s been living here for 5 years, and it’s been a time of my life unlike any other. Living in close proximity to one’s parent, in one’s adult life, requires diplomacy and, most importantly, love. Of course, the personalities of the people involved play a big role. The main things are respect and honest (but tactful) communication. My tact tends to fly out by the window when I feel disrespected, but even that can be tempered with mentally counting to ten, or – as my late father used to do – making the sign of the cross! :-)
I woke up this morning with my usual thoughts – remembering my dreams, then focusing on the day and its demands. With my mom’s memory loss as a daily reality, I’ve been contemplating the role of memory in our everyday lives, and I can only imagine how frustrating it must be for her, not being able to rely on her memory to recall what she did the previous day, what she’s eaten and – giving rise to all kinds of potential problems – whether she’s eaten/showered, etc. At this stage of her life, she needs to be in close proximity to caring people who will make sure she lives as stable a life as possible, with regular, healthy meals and everything else she needs. Most of my mom’s friends live in the broader area she’s moving back to, so they’re all excited. Also, she’ll be going back to the church she belonged to.
The challenge for me will be to make sure my kids and I see her regularly and that she’s still very involved in our lives. My dad spent his last years in an old aged home, and I know how easy it is to let too much time elapse between visits. Anyway, there’s no comparing my relationship with my mom with the one I had with my dad; she’s been there for me every step of the way, and he was an absent father, whom I never saw for up to a year at a time. You can NEVER make up for that. Be a parent when your children need you, and you establish that beautiful relationship for life. Be absent when they need you, and you establish resentment and issues of abandonment that extend into their adult lives.
Knowing a bit about my parents’ story, though, I honestly don’t think he was entirely to blame, and I’m sure he loved and missed us. Too many women, when they divorce, allow their own issues with their husbands to dictate the kind of access they have to the children, when, in fact, they’re two completely separate matters. There’s also a historical context, as divorce regulations have changed a lot over the years. Children have a right to learn to know and love their father, no matter what transpired between the parents. They have a right to a father in their lives and a right to love him because he’s a good father and fundamentally a good person. His failed relationship with their mother is just that. (Obviously in cases of abuse, this doesn’t apply – you wouldn’t place your children in the hands of a known abuser.)
But the other thought I had, on waking this morning, was what I actually wanted to write about. As my thoughts drifted from one thing to the next, I gained an awareness that was most liberating, and here it is: I have been experiencing profound feelings of failure in two areas of my life, namely, relationships and employment, not without reason – or so I kept telling myself. This morning, it occurred to me just how ridiculous it was to feel that way. It also occurred to me that the only reason I felt that way was that I’d been comparing myself to others. If that’s the grid according to which I rate myself, then I should, by implication, be feeling like a failure in SOOOOO many other parts of my life – my fitness, my figure, my hair, my personality, my clothes, my car (!), my rented-and-not-owned house…… etc. etc. etc. But I don’t. So why on earth do I allow certain forces in my life to make me feel like a failure in these two specific areas? I could dedicate a whole blog post – if not a whole blog - to this topic, but I’ll just write the thoughts as they come, because they’re brewing right now.
I think it’s got to do with two main things: definition and social acceptance. People define themselves largely by these two categories: relationship status and job. Along with the personal definition goes the social acceptance, or lack thereof. If, as in my case, these categories have undergone numerous changes over the years, it means that the way in which we (and everyone else) define ourselves has to have undergone numerous changes, too. And maybe it’s in the act of shifting the definition of who we are that we experience discomfort and distress, and that’s when the feelings of failure arise. But I have to keep bringing it back to the fact that it’s only because we evaluate ourselves comparatively that we define ourselves as failures. It’s like the concept of less and more – they exist only in relation to other entities. So, Person A is accepted socially as more successful than Person B because…….and here’s the crux……he/she’s had ONE relationship and ONE job for his/her entire adult life. Huh?!!!! And that’s why people like me feel like failures?! Hahahahahahaha!!!! It’s hilarious! Now – isn’t THAT a liberating perspective?!
On some level, I’ve known this for a long time, but TODAY I finally get it – I really and truly get it! And, from this moment on (a la Cole Porter), I’m going to live my life with more freedom than ever before, accepting my story as uniquely mine. If you define yourself as “ fine”, and you accept yourself as “ok” - with all the other amazing adjectives possible – then everyone around you will value you in the same way. If you’re apologizing your way through life, on the basis of your having had numerous relationships and jobs, then you’ve seriously missed the point, and the only failure in your life is your failure to value your life story for the richness it contains.
Back in bed with my next cup of winter warmth, this time green tea. Why not coffee again? Because I like experiencing different things – I get bored with repetition just for the sake of repetition. That’s who I am. And that’s fine. That’s ok. Other people’s life stories have evolved differently, and that’s also fine, also ok. It’s as simple as that. And the point I’m trying to make is not related to the idea that having one partner or job doesn’t necessarily make you a happier person – it’s not that at all. I’m happy for those people whose lives have taken a different route to mine, with more stability and material security. This is the point – accept YOUR life story, embrace it, own it, it’s yours, it’s you, it’s colourful, wacky, inconsistent….. it’s called living.
NEVER AGAIN will I compare myself negatively to those whose cables have never tangled; the principle of entropy states that everything in nature has a tendency towards disorder, chaos. I’m living my natural life - no apologies, no comparisons, just wonderful, absolute ownership of my story and full acceptance of myself, just as I am.
Watch me leap from these starting blocks!
Slouching in bed. Sunday morning. Decided to be indulgent and just stay under the covers for a few hours. Why the hell not? Every day I buzz around like a maniac, trying to live 5 lives in one, and wearing myself out in the process. Why? If I stay in bed till midday today, then get up and work till my children return this evening, I’ll still finish all the important things and I’ll have had some relaxing Me Time. So, yup – that’s the plan. This is one of the nice parts of being single. :-)
Back in bed, a few minutes later, this time with a cup of coffee and two slices of toast. My best friend gave me two avos, bordering on over-ripeness, perfect for toast. Some salt, black pepper, a few drops of fresh lemon and, Voila! .... a veritable feast! Mmmm….
I’ve set my alarm for midday; I’m enjoying myself so much, I could easily stay here and write/snooze/read all day. In fact, I look forward to doing exactly that, one day. Soon.
I write signs with the day and date for my mom, every day. She’s experiencing memory loss, and it includes disorientation regarding time (day, date and clock time). If I only get up at midday, she’ll be confused till I put the signs up. Actually, I’m sure she could figure out from yesterday’s signs what today is. She’s probably sleeping till noon, anyway.
Brrrr, it’s COLD!!!!! Winter’s here, Cape Town!!!
My mom moves to my sister’s house, in a week’s time. For at least 15 years, my mom has lived independently. In fact, it’s been much longer than 15: she owned her own home in Bloemfontein, for about 3 years, in the late 1980’s. I don’t know why, but I never visited her in Bloem. She had a whole life there: a job with the Performing Arts Council (singing opera), a community of colleagues and friends, and her own home. If I’m not mistaken, that was the only time she’d ever lived in her own home. My niece, Kim, went up by plane (unaccompanied, at about age 6), and spent some time with her during one school holiday.
So, in 6 days’ time, life changes for us all. My mom’s been living here for 5 years, and it’s been a time of my life unlike any other. Living in close proximity to one’s parent, in one’s adult life, requires diplomacy and, most importantly, love. Of course, the personalities of the people involved play a big role. The main things are respect and honest (but tactful) communication. My tact tends to fly out by the window when I feel disrespected, but even that can be tempered with mentally counting to ten, or – as my late father used to do – making the sign of the cross! :-)
I woke up this morning with my usual thoughts – remembering my dreams, then focusing on the day and its demands. With my mom’s memory loss as a daily reality, I’ve been contemplating the role of memory in our everyday lives, and I can only imagine how frustrating it must be for her, not being able to rely on her memory to recall what she did the previous day, what she’s eaten and – giving rise to all kinds of potential problems – whether she’s eaten/showered, etc. At this stage of her life, she needs to be in close proximity to caring people who will make sure she lives as stable a life as possible, with regular, healthy meals and everything else she needs. Most of my mom’s friends live in the broader area she’s moving back to, so they’re all excited. Also, she’ll be going back to the church she belonged to.
The challenge for me will be to make sure my kids and I see her regularly and that she’s still very involved in our lives. My dad spent his last years in an old aged home, and I know how easy it is to let too much time elapse between visits. Anyway, there’s no comparing my relationship with my mom with the one I had with my dad; she’s been there for me every step of the way, and he was an absent father, whom I never saw for up to a year at a time. You can NEVER make up for that. Be a parent when your children need you, and you establish that beautiful relationship for life. Be absent when they need you, and you establish resentment and issues of abandonment that extend into their adult lives.
Knowing a bit about my parents’ story, though, I honestly don’t think he was entirely to blame, and I’m sure he loved and missed us. Too many women, when they divorce, allow their own issues with their husbands to dictate the kind of access they have to the children, when, in fact, they’re two completely separate matters. There’s also a historical context, as divorce regulations have changed a lot over the years. Children have a right to learn to know and love their father, no matter what transpired between the parents. They have a right to a father in their lives and a right to love him because he’s a good father and fundamentally a good person. His failed relationship with their mother is just that. (Obviously in cases of abuse, this doesn’t apply – you wouldn’t place your children in the hands of a known abuser.)
But the other thought I had, on waking this morning, was what I actually wanted to write about. As my thoughts drifted from one thing to the next, I gained an awareness that was most liberating, and here it is: I have been experiencing profound feelings of failure in two areas of my life, namely, relationships and employment, not without reason – or so I kept telling myself. This morning, it occurred to me just how ridiculous it was to feel that way. It also occurred to me that the only reason I felt that way was that I’d been comparing myself to others. If that’s the grid according to which I rate myself, then I should, by implication, be feeling like a failure in SOOOOO many other parts of my life – my fitness, my figure, my hair, my personality, my clothes, my car (!), my rented-and-not-owned house…… etc. etc. etc. But I don’t. So why on earth do I allow certain forces in my life to make me feel like a failure in these two specific areas? I could dedicate a whole blog post – if not a whole blog - to this topic, but I’ll just write the thoughts as they come, because they’re brewing right now.
I think it’s got to do with two main things: definition and social acceptance. People define themselves largely by these two categories: relationship status and job. Along with the personal definition goes the social acceptance, or lack thereof. If, as in my case, these categories have undergone numerous changes over the years, it means that the way in which we (and everyone else) define ourselves has to have undergone numerous changes, too. And maybe it’s in the act of shifting the definition of who we are that we experience discomfort and distress, and that’s when the feelings of failure arise. But I have to keep bringing it back to the fact that it’s only because we evaluate ourselves comparatively that we define ourselves as failures. It’s like the concept of less and more – they exist only in relation to other entities. So, Person A is accepted socially as more successful than Person B because…….and here’s the crux……he/she’s had ONE relationship and ONE job for his/her entire adult life. Huh?!!!! And that’s why people like me feel like failures?! Hahahahahahaha!!!! It’s hilarious! Now – isn’t THAT a liberating perspective?!
On some level, I’ve known this for a long time, but TODAY I finally get it – I really and truly get it! And, from this moment on (a la Cole Porter), I’m going to live my life with more freedom than ever before, accepting my story as uniquely mine. If you define yourself as “ fine”, and you accept yourself as “ok” - with all the other amazing adjectives possible – then everyone around you will value you in the same way. If you’re apologizing your way through life, on the basis of your having had numerous relationships and jobs, then you’ve seriously missed the point, and the only failure in your life is your failure to value your life story for the richness it contains.
Back in bed with my next cup of winter warmth, this time green tea. Why not coffee again? Because I like experiencing different things – I get bored with repetition just for the sake of repetition. That’s who I am. And that’s fine. That’s ok. Other people’s life stories have evolved differently, and that’s also fine, also ok. It’s as simple as that. And the point I’m trying to make is not related to the idea that having one partner or job doesn’t necessarily make you a happier person – it’s not that at all. I’m happy for those people whose lives have taken a different route to mine, with more stability and material security. This is the point – accept YOUR life story, embrace it, own it, it’s yours, it’s you, it’s colourful, wacky, inconsistent….. it’s called living.
NEVER AGAIN will I compare myself negatively to those whose cables have never tangled; the principle of entropy states that everything in nature has a tendency towards disorder, chaos. I’m living my natural life - no apologies, no comparisons, just wonderful, absolute ownership of my story and full acceptance of myself, just as I am.
Watch me leap from these starting blocks!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)