tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87281473228844088292024-03-13T22:29:37.353-07:00Love, Death, and Everything in BetweenAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01785453203008937540noreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8728147322884408829.post-2538335597663876332014-04-25T21:25:00.000-07:002014-04-25T21:25:58.966-07:00The Meek Shall Inherit Anxiety
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It is rare to have a conversation
with another person that is wholly honest and self deprecating. All
we do is lie to each other and worse, to ourselves. I only want to be
unabashed and forthcoming without feeling judged. To do so is to
leave myself vulnerable. If you give up too much you leave yourself
exposed, more ammunition for anyone to take you down. Baring yourself
and standing defenseless in front of the world can be cathartic, but
more often than not it is when people begin to throw stones.</div>
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</div>
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We build barriers to insulate
ourselves from each other, creating a representation of what we think
best serves our interest. Some people put on a facade to be accepted,
and others to disappear. The walls I built were made to show the
world that I am angry and unapproachable, but behind the barrier I'm
afraid. My fear isn't that I will be rejected or ridiculed, it is the
fear of failure that holds me back. There are so many variables in
any situation that I become overwhelmed by the avenues of
possibility. My fear of doing or saying the wrong thing often leaves
me paralyzed. Some would argue that inaction is equivalent to
failure, but I don't see it that way. There are decisions that cannot
be unmade and so I err on the side of caution.</div>
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</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
To get close to me you
have to give part of yourself first. Some collateral, an offering of
trust. Once I know that you trust me, I can trust you. I willingly open
my chest and let spill even my darkest secrets. It has been a long while
since I have let anyone in and my confidence wanes. Something I can't
put my finger on looms over head, this dark cloud oppresses me. I
recede back into my fortress avoiding all contact with anything new.
I feel drained, worn down, and nearly broken. I find it hard to make
eye contact again, like a wounded animal cowering in the corner. I am
afraid that people will see the weakness in my soul. I can't bear the
look when someone recognizes it in me.</div>
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</div>
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I live each day hoping
for some affirmation that it was worth it. Most of the time I come up
empty. Ordinary things have deep and significant meaning in my mind.
A simple missed phone call is a traumatic blow to a relationship, an
offhand comment holds hidden messages. Life becomes a puzzle that
only I can see. I read too deeply into everything and I feel like the
smallest decision is paramount to my future. Every word is a sword
that has the potential to leave a deep wound, every thought a poison
pill handled with great care. Choosing to remain silent and hiding
behind my defenses has left me anxious and isolated.</div>
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</div>
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I want to believe that there is a
reason for the way our lives play out. I hope that there is purpose,
but each day that passes makes me feel like there is nothing.
Everything I have ever wanted has been given to me, only to be
promptly snatched away. I can only surmise that I am damned to be
miserable because for some reason that is the only condition in which
I am worthwhile. It is counter-intuitive for me to be most productive
when I am at my emotional worst. When I am dragging the bottom, the
silt rises. I can see the dark and dangerous thoughts that lurk in
the deep recesses of my mind. Happiness is a shroud that blinds me to
this side of myself.
</div>
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</div>
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The strange thing is I like both
versions of myself equally. When I feel satisfied with my life
everything seems lighter, the burden of contemplation becomes
insignificant. If I could stay in those moments forever I would.
Maybe even die with a smile on my face, content. In the times when
the veil is lifted and I am immersed in gut wrenching torment, I feel
empowered. I become the hero in my own story and I have discovered my
nemesis. What champion is complete without a foe to face? There is a
love/hate relationship within my own mind. I become both protagonist
and antagonist.
</div>
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</div>
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My emotions manifest into physical
forces. I feel things deeply, but I do not show them on the surface.
There is only chaotic turmoil inside, yet on the surface the pond is
still. Don't mistake the stoic, quiet people for disconnected,
emotionless robots because I can assure you that we feel things on a
level you can never imagine. We are deep wells. If you are fortunate
enough to meet one that lets you peer beneath the surface, realize
the amount of trust they have put in you. I think long and hard about
every minute detail of every insignificant thing on a scale so
enormously large that it becomes difficult just to be alive. Yet somehow I fail
to understand my own duality. The world and everything in it is alien
to me but so fascinating that I need to explore the most mundane
facet of every little thing that makes it function. However, my
apprehension keeps me hiding away from it all.</div>
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I wonder about the
meaning of life and sometimes, in the pursuit of the answer, I forget
to just live. Having spent so many sleepless nights trying to figure
out why I am here, I have missed so much of life. My quest for
meaning has only served to lessen the weight of my existence. I have
come to believe that the answer is: there is no answer. If you want
purpose in life you have to create it for yourself. Destiny is the
dream of the hopeless. Fate doesn't define you, action does. The day
will come when I shed my anxiety and I walk the wire without a safety
net. Until that day arrives, I recognize that I am the navigator of
my own life. Only I can make myself become the person I want to be.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01785453203008937540noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8728147322884408829.post-661678467589604022014-03-13T23:47:00.000-07:002014-03-14T07:33:21.049-07:00Death Only Kills the Living<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Jenna had been sick as long as I'd
known her. Hiding the truth of what she was going through, she
preferred to let everyone believe she was a drug addict than let them
know how physically broken she was. When we first starting dating she
told me her doctor said she wouldn't live more than five years and
that she shouldn't have children because it would most likely kill
her. It was obvious there was something seriously wrong with her. I
had already spent many nights with her curled up in a ball riding out
a wave of pain.<br />
</div>
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Things started getting serious
between us and she told me to walk away because she didn't want to
put me through the tragedy that would inevitably come. I stayed
because I loved her the moment I saw her and I knew it was real. She
lived longer than the projected five years and she might have lived
longer, having twins definitely took its toll on her body. She began
to get very sick in 2009. She saw more than twenty different doctors
and not one of them ever offered a conclusive diagnosis of her
condition. They said things like “It seems like Lupus, but the
tests are inconclusive” or “You definitely have some auto-immune
disease, but your symptoms don't fit any of them specifically.” In
and out of the hospital, no better than she was before, Jenna had
lost her faith in medicine. She knew there wasn't a lot of time left
and she told me what she wanted to happen after she died. At the time
I thought she was just being morbid, but I am glad she did because in
the end it was up to me to make the final decision.<br />
</div>
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In October of 2012 she finally
gave in to her ailments. For about a year before she died she barely
ever got out of bed. She slept so much that I wouldn't see her awake
for almost a week at a time. She almost never ate, towards the end
she had a meal a week. I had to supplement her nutrition with vitamin
saturated smoothies that more often than not she vomited up. Her
condition got so bad that I could no longer sleep in the bed with her
because she would get fevers of 105 degrees and sweat so much that
the bed would be soaked, moaning and talking in her sleep. Through
all of this she refused to go to the hospital because they always
treated her like a junkie trying to get meds. I saw it with my own
eyes, the judgment and condescension they treated her with and I
could not argue with her fear.<br />
</div>
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Eventually I had to quit my job to
take care of her, thankfully she was getting disability money or we
would have gone totally broke. She was no more than a skeleton
anymore and to my everlasting shame I began to resent her. Two kids
and a sick woman to take care of and all I could do was think about
myself. I didn't think she was going to die, she had endured so much.
My life had become only parent and nurse, I was angry with her for
being so helpless. That has been the hardest part for me. The
thoughts that came into my mind. How it would be easier to leave and
take the kids, that I could live a normal life if I didn't have to
care for her. Maybe now it is easier to only have the responsibility
of having to take care of the kids, but there is a hole in my soul.<br />
</div>
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One day in late September of 2012
I came home from picking the kids up from school. I found Jenna in
the kitchen crying. I was already in a bad mood having to deal with
the kids and their bullshit. I was not in a sympathetic mood. I asked
her why she was crying and she told me she had gone to the bathroom
and fallen in the hallway. She said her body had stopped responding,
she couldn't see or hear or control her body but she was still
conscious. I thought she was exaggerating. I told her she probably
stood up too fast and blacked out.<br />
</div>
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The next day I was in a different
room when I heard the most terrible scream I have ever heard. I had
my headphones on so loud I couldn't hear myself breathe and her
scream sounded as clear as if she was in my head. She told me that
she felt trapped in her body with no control and she was terrified.
Now I was really worried, I thought she might be having minor
strokes. I told her to go to the hospital because she would die if
this kept happening. She promised if it happened again she would go.
She never got to make that choice. Maybe if I had forced her to go
she would still be alive. I will always question myself. Did I do
enough to save her? She had been in the hospital so many times before
with no resolution I didn't see the point in arguing with her.<br />
</div>
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Two nights later, I was sleeping
on the couch. I woke up to strange sounds coming from the bedroom at
one o'clock in the morning as I often did. I saw something that will
never leave me. She was bluish white and gasping for breath, eyes
wide open but seeing nothing. I held her in my arms and called out
her name, shaking her to bring her back to reality. She didn't
respond. My heart began to race, fear had taken me over. I slapped
her face to make her snap out of it, but her eyes didn't move, fixed
in a blank stare. Her breathing slowed, still gasping but fewer and
further between. Then she stopped. She didn't take another breath. I
tried to feel for a pulse but my heart was beating so hard I couldn't
feel anything else. Her doctor had given her a stethoscope, I ran to
get it and quickly held it to her chest. There was nothing, not a
single sound. Fear consumed me, but I forced myself to focus as I
called 9-1-1. Dragging her onto the living room floor I told the
dispatcher everything and proceeded to perform CPR.<br />
</div>
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Within a few minutes I heard
sirens and saw lights outside. I ran downstairs to get them and they
continued to work on her. In the back of my mind I knew the odds. She
was already blue when I found her and this was minutes later. I knew
that night her brain was gone, but I still found myself begging the
EMT's not to let her die. I pleaded, “Please, I can't do this
alone!”, “Don't let her die.” A few minutes into all of this I
heard a small voice behind me. “Daddy? Are your friends showing you
how to save someone's life?” My heart froze. My son had heard the
commotion and woke up. I told him to go back to bed and I would tell
him in the morning.<br />
</div>
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He saw it all. The gurney, the air
pump, defibrillator. I told him to go in his room and wait. Jenna's
heart started beating again and the medics brought her down to the
ambulance. They told me what hospital she was going to and that they
would call me for more information. I couldn't go with her because I
had no one to watch my kids. When I came upstairs I told my son mommy
was sick and had to go to the hospital again. I passed out on the
living room floor waiting for the call from the hospital.<br />
</div>
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Six o'clock in the morning I woke
to the phone ringing, it was the hospital. I relayed every single bit
of pertinent information I could. I made breakfast, took the kids to
school as if everything would be like every other time she went to
the hospital. My mother had come to help me, I broke down crying. I
told her that I had watched Jenna die, I saw the light fade from her
eyes. I knew enough to know that long without breathing would at the
very least leave her severely brain damaged. I went to the emergency
room. They had dropped her body temperature to try to preserve brain
function. She was cold and unconscious.<br />
</div>
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I was so angry with her. I begged
her to fight, but she couldn't hear me. “Just keep breathing” I
said, it became my mantra for ten days. “Fight for us! Don't give
up, just keep breathing.” I didn't want it to end like this. I
stared at the monitor display, watching her breaths per minute and
heart rate. Any slight improvement was a ray of hope. That was the
longest week of my life, knowing she would be brain dead, but still
hoping for a miracle. I have never believed in anything, but I prayed
to any deity that would listen to save her. She was in a coma for
more than a week before they had a conclusive brain scan. I remained
hopeful until the neurologist said that the scans showed 90% brain
death and she would never be the person she was again. His “best
case scenario” was that she would be able to see but never
recognize us and never be able to speak.<br />
</div>
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The decision to end any further
life support was on my shoulders. We had discussed this possibility,
but I couldn't believe I actually had to act on it. The following day
I gave the approval to unhook her. We had all hoped she would pass
quickly, but she was still breathing on her own. When I had a moment
alone with her I whispered, “It's okay, you fought enough. You can
let go now. I will take care of the kids. You don't have to worry
about us anymore. Go be free of this.” Jenna was always too tough
for her own good and she held on. The whole family sat with her that
day waiting, but she did not let go.<br />
</div>
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The next day her brother, best
friend and I spent most of the day sharing stories, and reading to
her. Still she did not relent. A few hours after we went home, when
no one was with her, finally she passed away. Just as she had kept
her illness from everyone, she chose to walk the last mile alone. She
was always so much better than I am, I wish I could have traded
places with her. I got to have the best of her even though I couldn't
be my best for her. Her light pulled me from the darkness and I will
be eternally grateful, without her I would probably have died a long
time ago. She still makes me a better man every day for having known
her. I can only hope that someone will miss me as much as I miss her
when I am gone.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01785453203008937540noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8728147322884408829.post-51558131286671162042014-02-24T18:08:00.001-08:002014-02-24T18:08:32.239-08:00The Weight of Being
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Everything made sense when I
was a child. The rules were laid out for me, all the truths of the
world were taught to me, and everything was peaceful. I don't
remember the moment it happened, but I know that one day my
experience clashed with the gentle tranquility of my perceived world.
Something didn't add up. A door had opened and what I could see on
the other side grabbed my attention. Answers only yield more
questions and my pursuit of truth left me with a loosening grip on
reality. Truth is neither good nor evil yet I could feel something
stirring inside me, a malevolent force. Some of us are stalked by
demons and mine were making themselves known. They don't strike when
you are strong because they want an easy fight. When you falter,
stumble, and fall they attack.</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
About ten years ago I was
incredibly depressed, the demons had me firmly in their grasp and
they were dragging me down. I didn't want to do anything or go
anywhere. Nothing was enjoyable and I couldn't think of anything that
would make me feel any better. My darkest days were upon me. I felt
downtrodden and miserable as though I was carrying the weight of a
world I would never get to enjoy. The toils of life had worn me down
and I could not imagine what purpose my continued existence would
serve. The pressure of an unseen force was bearing down on me. The
murky waters were rising, a flood was imminent. Frantically plugging
holes in the dam, I could not stop the inevitable deluge. The
intangible force broke through and I was washed away. Not a martyr,
not anything. Another soul in the grinder.
</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I had given up. Every day I
woke up and thought “I can't do this anymore.” The talons of
hands I could feel but not see tore at me. In a poorly considered
attempt to feel something other than crushing sadness, I began to
drink heavily. For a while I felt better. I could enjoy myself, be
around other people, smile and laugh. It didn't take long for my
weekends of debauchery to lose their luster. Being misguided as I
was, I believed that if being drunk made life easier then doing it
all the time was the solution. Every day for a few years thereafter,
I was a drunken mess. Alcohol was my wolf in sheep's clothing, it's
true nature hidden from me. I put my faith in it to save me from
sadness, but it only brought me closer to despair. A haze clouded my
mind, I couldn't feel anything anymore. I was lost and alone in the
world and alcohol was my escape.
</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
On the outside I was always
having a great time, but inside I was dying. I nearly destroyed
myself, I hurt other people, and I lost any sense of who I was.
Countless nights I found myself sobbing on the floor trying to talk
myself out of ending my life, clinging to the hope that I would get
through the nightmare my life had become. In that frame of mind dying
was not only an option, but a reasonable one. Thankfully I never got
to the attempt stage. Being on this path should have been enough to
scare me away from the dark abyss I had created in my mind. It
didn't.</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Hope eventually runs out. I
didn't want to fight for mediocrity anymore. I didn't want to fight
at all. All I wanted was a break from the constant flow of
devastation and disappointment. The demons had twisted my reality to
the point that I was ready to die in my early twenties. I stopped
trying to fight depression and began to rationalize that it was who I
was meant to be. Alcoholism became my crutch and I never blamed it
for the problems in my life even after losing days of memory to black
outs. I was on a straight course for death, whether it be at my own
hand or not didn't seem to matter. There wasn't much comfort in
knowing I was not the only one who felt that way, in fact that idea
only made it worse. If I could sacrifice myself to shield others from
this malady I would do so without thinking.</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
In the end I got lucky and I
made it out alive. I learned to fight my demons, however I can not
claim to have any answers. For me, I had someone come along to save
me. I changed every aspect of my life and took on some real
responsibility. Things turned around almost instantly. That is not to
say that I never feel the shadows of my past creeping up on me. There
are moments, especially during hardships, when I want to surrender.
With the right people to stand up and fight by your side it gets
easier. You might be as surprised as I was to find out how
compassionate people can be. I spent years facing dark times alone
because I thought no one would understand. The fact of the matter is
that there are people who love you and that is all the reason they
need to hold you up. Fighting your demons alone is a choice so don't
keep it to yourself, someone will help you through it. The fight goes
on and although it may not always seem like it, living is worth the
trouble.
</div>
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<br />
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01785453203008937540noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8728147322884408829.post-27429835990572534302014-01-29T09:54:00.000-08:002014-01-29T09:54:15.820-08:00Stoke the Fire
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I refuse to believe that
people are really as dull and stupid as they represent themselves to
be. If I spend most of my time examining the world I live in and my
place in it, it should stand to reason that other people are as well.
Why is it then, that we discuss the most worthless parts of our
experience? Small talk tortures me. I intentionally look angry all
the time because I want to dissuade people from talking to me about
the weather or how their kid did in his soccer game over the weekend.
The sad thing is, as I listen to people around me talking, I think
they have convinced themselves that the mindless prattling chit chat
that they engage in on a daily basis is somehow meaningful. We have
the ability to connect on a scale much greater than ever before yet
we keep our true selves hidden away as though someone could snatch it
away from us.</div>
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<br />
</div>
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We should get something out of
connecting with another person. I want to feel like I have grown, or
given someone else the opportunity to grow. Having one good
conversation where vulnerabilities are shared and a bond is forged is
so much better than having a thousand encounters exchanging
pleasantries. Fake smiles and mindless banter leave me feeling dirty.
I won't participate in this charade anymore. I don't want to meet
your public face, I don't want to play a role to occupy your time.
Awkward silence is less uncomfortable for me than awful banter. Too
often when you first meet someone the first question exchanged is
“what do you do?” Does a person's profession define them? We
should be asking more relevant questions.</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
There is nothing I enjoy more than the
rush of meeting someone who challenges me intellectually or
spiritually. Even an argument makes me feel alive like nothing else.
Conversations where I can reflect on what was discussed for days
afterward fuel me, I feel enriched by them. I love the emotions that
plague me when someone challenges my conceptions of what really
matters and the true meaning of life. Lately it seems that those days
of endless debates and heated arguments are long behind me. Has the
fire gone from our hearts or did life just get in the way? I can
barely recognize humanity anymore. What have we become?
</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
When I was younger, wide-eyed and full of wonder, I was enamored with
life. I want to be able to feel that
way again but now I can't
help but feel like we are all doomed. Each day is a reflection of the
last and I feel hopeless. That spark, the burning passion I had once
felt, is reduced to a smoldering ember gasping to hang on to life. I
don't see passion in my contemporaries. The blinding obsession with
something or someone that yields great stories, art, and music. The
suffering and elation it can bring seems like it has gone from the
world and everything is awash in a gray, mundane fog. Is it that
people are too jaded to care about anything or are they so
anesthetized by meds that they forgot how to feel?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I thrive on the highs and lows of
passion. As much as the lows kill me, I wouldn't trade them for
anything because they give value to the soaring exultation the high
points bring. Admittedly the lows are usually longer in duration and
at points death seems like a better option, but reaching those highs
becomes all that matters. Everyone should be passionate about
something, be it love or rage, anything to feel some real emotions.
When you do, share it with someone. Set passionless hearts ablaze in
the fires of inspiration and watch the world burn.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01785453203008937540noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8728147322884408829.post-65278372175837391242014-01-05T19:17:00.000-08:002014-01-05T19:17:25.434-08:00Walking on Eggshells Leaves a Bloody Trail
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> When
I was a child we were forged in the crucible of playground violence.
When you punched someone in the face for being a jerk, assault
charges weren't filed against you. We are the last generation to have
children's movies with people smoking, drinking, and saying things
like “penis breath.” Was our innocence lost? I don't like the way
our culture has evolved since I was a kid. It seems today as though
every action has a disproportional consequence attached to it. The
fear of public shaming has everyone trembling in their boots thanks
to social media and the abundance of recording devices. People are
afraid to offend anyone because they can be made a public spectacle
of with such ease. I miss the days when the assholes of the world
wore their distasteful personalities like a badge of honor. You still
see them every once in a while but at this rate they will go the way
of the dodo. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> There
is this pervasive wave of homogenization of behavior and outlook that
scares the hell out of me. The most frightening part is that most
people don't even question it, they just fall in line. My kids are
only seven, but I know I have taught them the most valuable lesson
they will ever learn: question everything. Diversity of ideas is
paramount to the continued progress of any culture. People are
entitled to their opinions and if you are offended by what someone
says or how they act it is not your job to bring them down, simply
look away. Just because you don't approve of something does not
automatically deputize you to the decency police. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> The
people who try to make a big deal out of something someone else is
doing annoy me more than the person they are trying to shut down. The
other day I was on the subway with my kids and a group of men were
talking loudly and spewing obscenities. It didn't bother me at all, I
have already explained to my children what “bad” words are and
the time and place in which they are appropriate. I could tell that
it made people around me uncomfortable, but my kids didn't even seem
to notice. Sensitivity to words and the fear of hurting someone's
feelings have taken away our ability to say what we are thinking.
Saying anything that might be slightly offensive can get you
crucified. I admire the people who don't care about their public
image.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> The
internet has allowed us to craft an artificial world, one we can use
to customize how the real world perceives us. With social media any
individual can create an image for themselves and in a way become
their own publicist. Somewhere along the line it was unanimously
decided that validation can only come from the approval of others.
This showcase we create highlights all of our successes and
achievements, bolstering our self worth to a point of an inflated
ego. The more adulation we receive, the stronger the belief that we
actually are as we have represented ourselves to be. So many people
are building themselves an ivory tower, and I can't wait for them all
to come crashing down. There is a saying, “you can't polish a
turd.” Despite the fact that it has been proven that you can in
fact polish a turd, the point is still valid. No matter how you dress
it up, a piece of crap is still a piece of crap.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> Now
we shelter our kids from the things </span></span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">we</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
don't want to face and in doing so we prevent them from the slow
trickle of discovering the horrible truth about life. They discover
everything all at once and it is hard to handle. Imagine you woke up
one day and everything you ever knew was just the best of what the
world had to offer. Once you saw the truth you could unravel. As a
parent I feel the instinct to fix every sadness with kind words.
Fight the urge. This soft-handed, light stepping new culture has
resulted in a generation of overly sensitive kids with a wide range
of problems that I am not entirely sure are real things.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> To
become a whole person you </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>must</b></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
experience both good and bad. I am resilient </span></span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">because
</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">I
felt pain, alienation, and deep suffocating misery and I survived. My
range of understanding comes from seeing both sides of the coin.
Steel is forged by being beaten relentlessly with a hammer. Why
should we think any different of the human spirit? Adversity feeds
the desire to be great, pampering feeds nothing but hedonism and
hubris. “I deserve to feel good” should not be the first thought
that comes to mind when you wake up, it should be reserved for when
you have actually done something to feel good about. Feeling
accomplished is a privilege, not a right.</span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01785453203008937540noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8728147322884408829.post-25322482281219588212013-12-14T14:45:00.000-08:002013-12-14T14:45:38.691-08:00Not Everyone Gets a Trophy
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We spend so much time worrying about
what other people think of us that we forget to consider what we
think of ourselves. Self-worth is tied up in so many facets of life
that it can easily get muddled and lost. I've never had a high level
of self-worth because I allowed myself to believe that how people saw
me mattered and that the mistakes of my past had to be weighed in my
judgment. As they say we are our own harshest critic. I know I have
beaten myself up more than anyone else ever has and the gap between
my own criticism and anything that has come from the outside is vast.
I have been called crazy and a freak mostly because my thoughts,
opinions, and beliefs are generally of the not-widely-accepted
variety. Because I refused to change, I was only accepted by small
groups of people.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Recently I found redemption. Not in
the eyes of others but in my own mind. I think this is where the
essence of redemption truly lies. After all, how could you be honest
to anyone else if you lie to yourself? I'm not talking about making
amends, there is a huge difference between redemption and absolution.
For a while I thought they were one in the same, but I realize that
absolution is much easier than redemption. Being forgiven only
demands that you ask for forgiveness. In truth, you don't even have
to mean it, just go through the motions and you may be forgiven. Ask
yourself, for whom are you seeking forgiveness? Is it to make things
right with someone you have wronged, or is it to assuage your own
guilt?
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Redemption has a higher price. It's
personal, something that cannot be achieved without being honest with
yourself. I decided to stop deceiving myself and drop all the half
truths and interpretations of events from my memory. I would only
accept the truth and I would only give the truth. I found out that
contrary to my belief, people respond well to blunt honesty. Maybe it
is because it is so rare, or because the shock of truth is powerful
enough to strip the inhibitions of others. Your redemption can be on
a small scale, something as simple as committing to change, but that
small thing needs to be done for yourself. Otherwise your efforts are
simply pandering to the perception of others. Everything we were
exposed to growing up made us believe we're better than we are, as
though the world owes us respect for nothing. We believed that we
were all destined for greatness and then we became adults and we saw
the ugly truth. We've been lying to ourselves our entire lives.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
When I was a teenager I thought the
world would be handed to me. Even after dropping out of college in my
first year, I expected everything for nothing in return. I felt
animosity towards the world for leaving me behind. My delusion was of
my own design and I could not see through it. I blamed everyone but
myself, I made excuses for my lack of success, and I made myself
believe that it was only temporary. That one day my luck would turn
around. Nothing ever changed unless for the worse. Slowly I began to
realize that it was my fault. I wasn't left behind, I failed to keep
up.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Mine is a generation of apathy and
selfishness. Now is the time for redemption. Reevaluate everything
you have ever thought or learned, understanding that “why?” isn't
an unreasonable question to ask. Start with you and push others to do
the same. Change starts with the individual. Say what you mean, and
mean what you say. Without personal meaning our words and actions
ring hollow. Define yourself by what you see within you, not by how
you think others should see you. Like looking through a dirty window,
your view of the world is obscured and the reflection of yourself is
distorted.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Reckless and unduly proud, we have
become a culture of self-indulgent egomaniacs that believe a pill can
cure anything that ails us and we have no one to blame but ourselves.
We keep letting people make excuses for each other and we hide behind
them because it's easier than trying to fix the real problem. My hope
is that we will stop telling our kids that they are special. That we
will no longer reward mediocrity. I want to give the next generation
a true sense of accomplishment by making them actually earn it. These
things are not something that can be learned from books, it takes
experience. We need to show them, to lead by example.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
People can do amazing things when they
believe in themselves. I was always a pessimist and kept my eyes
closed to possibility. For me it took a few life changing blows to my
ego before I opened my eyes and saw the truth: the world is full of
opportunity but it isn't going to come to you. When you want
something, go for it and never give up. Progress is a byproduct of
change, be the catalyst.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01785453203008937540noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8728147322884408829.post-91088270132960680482013-11-27T07:01:00.000-08:002013-11-27T07:01:17.987-08:00The Ebb and Flow of Happiness
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I won't pretend to be
someone who knows what I am talking about, I simply know what I feel.
This is only meant to be cathartic for me and I invite you along for
the ride. My intention is full disclosure, a guided tour through a
mind full of confusion and uncertainty. A long time ago I realized
that the path to enlightenment did not begin with knowledge, but with
understanding. The Latin phrase “temet nosce”, meaning “know
thyself” became my personal mantra. I'm sure the scholars have
plenty to say about it, but for me it meant: to fully understand
anything you must first understand yourself.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
When I think back to my
youth, especially high school, I cringe. I can't say it was
especially terrible for me because I floated by somewhere in the
middle. I wasn't bullied much. If people noticed me at all, they just
thought I was strange, maybe a little crazy. Strange as I was, I did
manage to make some friends. At the time I believed that no one
wanted anything to do with me, but I realized later it was my odd
behavior that kept people away. Hardly ever speaking, I was a very
private person. I liked to observe from afar and take mental notes of
people's interactions. Slang and popular fashion trends were
completely alien to me.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I have never been
comfortable around other people. Protecting myself like a turtle,
retreating at the first sign of threat, I never felt whole because I
didn't let anyone see me. I felt completely insane compared to the
“normal” but I think we all do. I see now that it's not me,
everyone is different. Normal is an illusion, the generally accepted
behaviors that all people ascribe to are insane. No one is normal.
Looking back I can't understand why anyone would want to feel any
other way. The people that don't feel alienated are the strange
ones. </div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Happiness eluded me for
years. I found it a few times but that slippery bastard always made
it's escape. All I ever wanted was for someone to love me.
Occasionally I had it, but inevitably my awkwardness became too much
for anyone to bear and I found myself alone time and again.
Continuing throughout my teens and early twenties, the tides of
happiness graced my shores only to recede slowly eroding my faith
away. Eventually it broke me. I found myself in darkness, drowning
every night in self destruction. I turned my back on happiness
finding a niche at the bar with my two best friends, alcohol and
cigarettes. It didn't take long for the tides of happiness to turn to
the tsunami of misery. So much of who I was washed away in the
relentless wave. I had given up not only on trying to find happiness,
but on life. By some miracle someone came along and pulled me out.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
She loved me as broken as I
was, maybe because she was broken too. She became my best friend. We
did everything together. We had kids, I found a decent job and things
were good for a while. The shores of happiness were mine to stroll
once again. They say fate is cruel, I don't have a case to argue. Our
happiness was short lived when she became ill. Our story didn't have
a fairy tale ending. She passed away last year. Our family broken,
the dark shadow of misery looming again overhead. As sad as it made
me, this time I didn't let it overwhelm me.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
For most people happiness
is cyclical, it comes and goes seemingly as it pleases. Whatever it
is that makes us happy is usually something beyond our control, like
someone else willingly loving us. Somehow we have been conditioned to
believe that we are incomplete if we are alone. I used to believe
that myself. Maybe its was the stories with the beautiful princess
and the handsome prince we all are familiar with from our childhood.
They are mostly the same, boy and girl meet, fall in love, most of
the time the only adversity their relationship faces is something
unrealistic or intangible like magic or a purely evil entity, and
they live “happily ever after”. We let ourselves be brainwashed
into thinking this was what to expect from life. As adults we don't
remember the emotional roller coaster we experienced hearing these
stories as kids, but somewhere deep in our mind it lingers. It's the
thing that makes us sabotage our own relationships. Nothing is ever
good enough because it doesn't live up to the fantasy of perfect
happiness forever. Ideally we all want that happy ending, but almost
no one ever gets it.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
There are no princesses
locked in towers guarded by dragons, there's no handsome prince
scouring the world looking for you. Even if there were, do you really
think that they would love you unconditionally forever? Of course
not. Unless you are a Haitian witchdoctor or a lobotomist, you are
going to have trouble finding someone to be complacent all the time.
All of this aside, stop looking for your happiness in someone else as
if they are holding some part of you that was removed at birth and
you need them to feel happy. The secret to true happiness is in
understanding who you are. Stop comparing yourself to everyone else.
Learn who you are and why you do the things you do.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Anything motivated by an
outside source is a threat to your happiness. If you dress a certain
way because you are worried about how other people perceive you, stop
it. If you talk a certain way because you want to fit into a social
group, stop it. If your goals are set to please or impress others,
stop pursuing them. Get to the root of what you want and how you feel
about things. Make changes to be the person you want to be.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I have embraced that which
makes me different. There is no longer any fear of being judged or
ridiculed. No matter how alone you may feel someone like you is close
at hand. The biggest obstacle is taking off our armor and allowing
ourselves to be exposed and vulnerable. When you do, and you let the
world see the tumult in you, others will begin to strip their armor
and let you see them. If we all let go of our defenses the world
would be a better place. Be vulnerable, lower your guard. Do
something you normally wouldn't do. Free yourself from the shackles
you have let social pressure place on you. Most of us think we are
less than we are. Feeling like you are inadequate can be the thing
that holds you back. The words of others can only hurt you if you let
them. I believe everyone has greatness in themselves. All it takes is
finding it and letting it grow.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
These are new revelations
for me. I have always believed that happiness was achieving the
things that I was told I should want. A family, an education, and a
good job. I always hated school and dropped out of my first year of
college. There has never been a job that I was happy with for more
than a few months, I always felt I could do better. My family
suffered a great loss. By the standards I grew up on, I was a
complete failure. I believed I could never be happy. Our unhappiness
comes from our unrealistic expectations and distorted perceptions. As
an adult its time to clean out the cobwebs of childhood fantasies and
see the world as it is.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The happiest people I know
are the ones who love themselves and see anything outside of
themselves as a bonus. If I said I was happy I would be lying, but
you can be sure I am on the right path.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01785453203008937540noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8728147322884408829.post-18118192004441238862013-11-15T21:23:00.002-08:002014-02-06T06:05:00.372-08:00Love is a Four Letter Word<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>"If we deny love that is given
to us, if we refuse to give love because we fear the pain of loss,
then our lives will be empty, our loss greater."</i>
</div>
<ul>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Dragonlance Chronicles: <i>Dragons
of Winter Night</i></div>
</li>
</ul>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We are human and we love. The fear of
rejection, or failing at a relationship has often prevented me from
taking a chance at saying how I feel. I know now that the wonder of
what could have been outlasts the pain of rejection, but I still feel
apprehension when I know I should be honest about my feelings. I have
no fear of the world tuning it's back on me because it isn't
personal. To be unabashed and bare my bleeding heart to one person
and ask them if they want to walk this far from perfect road with me
is absolutely terrifying. To have the perfect person in your sights
and fail to pull the trigger is the kind of thing that keeps you up
at night.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The old saying, to have loved and lost
is better than to have never loved at all, is a double edged sword. I
have loved and I have lost vastly. The memory of being in love is a
warm place to curl up and relive, but the pain of loss is a black
abyss so deep and unforgiving that some never find their way out. If
you do manage to survive the loss of love you are left with the
knowledge of how love can lift you to great heights. You crave it,
like a junkie craves his drug of choice. Sometimes we try to force
ourselves to love someone because we want to experience that
lightness again. I think most of us know how that ends, regret and
doubt at the least. More demons to haunt you in the abyss.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Everyone has loved someone at some
point in their life. Some people are still happy in love, as rare as
it seems. The rest of us are envious. We all imagine things working
out perfectly, but often we don't take into account the fact that
most people don't want the same things. We compromise and make
sacrifices. Some fight harder than others. There comes a time
however, when you find yourself beating a dead horse. Saying goodbye
isn't as hard as admitting to yourself that it's no longer worth the
effort. That's the part that really hurts, when you've put so much in
and gotten so little in return. You may wonder how you could have
been so diluted, yet you still feel something had to have been there
for you to let yourself be so vulnerable.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Some would say that love fades. Years
may have grown between you or changes have become a wedge, but you
still hold on to that lingering love that made you willing to do
anything to be with them. No matter how damaged it may seem, nor how
irreparable... love never fades. The bonds that keep us together
often fray or rot and sadly sometimes they break, but the anchor to
which they were once tied remains, like a signpost in our heart. Some
bonds are so strong that when they break they fracture our hearts. In
time the heart heals with a scar in place of a deep fissure. No
amount of trying can erase that part of us, though we wish we could.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Then there is the love that never was,
or the one that got away. The person you were so good with but you
couldn't make it work. Whether it was circumstance or timing that got
in the way, you still have lingering feelings for them. Maybe you are
in a place where you would want to revisit those feelings, but
inevitably the other person is unavailable. You don't say anything
because you fear the only thing worse than rejection: learning that
that person feels the same way, but something keeps them at arms
length. I guess it doesn't really matter when you have waited too
long to say it.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Love is the varnish of our hearts, it
brings out the beauty within and protects us from decay. Over time
the wear of daily rigors strip away the enamel of love. I believe
that nothing can completely sever a connection made by love, if it is
real. The moment your eyes met that unspoken bond was forged, long
before the words were a fleeting thought. When someone you love
ceases to be that person and you cannot recognize them anymore, when
you know that bond is breaking, that first moment is still yours. It
wasn't a lie you let yourself believe. That piece of your soul that
you gave up to love will always hold the same fondness you remember.
The hardest part of love is letting go.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I am not saying love is always tragic.
In fact I believe that when you find a way to make it work, love is
amazing. The best times of my life were when I had someone to love
who loved me just as much. Losing that love left me feeling like the
world was bleak and somehow the universe was punishing me for past
maleficence. Despite the isolated, drowning loneliness that I have
felt, I still have faith that I will love again. I know now that I am
older and wiser that love is a perk, not the goal in life. Someone
close to me made me realize that happiness comes from within. When
you stop seeking it elsewhere, look inside yourself and mature
spiritually, the person you become will draw in the person who will
embody all the things you sought.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Like all good things, it won't be easy
but the honey is worth a few stings.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Love is a four letter word.... so is
hope. For my money, there are no two greater motivators.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/11726055/?claim=h99axg4hb6q">Follow my blog with Bloglovin</a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
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