What happened?

God has given you one face, and you make yourself another.  ~William Shakespeare

My little sister wrote a note about me on Facebook today. She's 18. She wrote about how much she admired me, how much she used to (and still does) want to be like me....

i remember sneaking in to your room when you were out of the house back when i used to visit you and Daddy over the holidays. I thought you were the coolest, most creative person on the face of the planet! The glow in the dark stars on the ceiling, the handwritten poems on the wall, all the old bottles you kept as candle holders. Your room became the best room in the house for me: not only was it filled with the most fascinating things, but also because i hoped that the longer i sat at your desk, the more i read your poems, the longer i listened to your Lauryn Hill cd, the more i would become like you. To me the ultimate compliment was "You have the same laugh as your sister" As soon as i had a steady hand i would paint my nails dark blue with white spots, the way i had seen you do. I started collecting teddy bears because of the three that stayed on your bed well into your varsity years. I still want to be just like you when im older. My awe over you has not faded through the years. Beauty, kindness, creativity. Forever the coolest big sister.

I was transported. Instantly. To a time that now seems so long ago. To a me that now seems so far away. But I was also forced to ask some questions (as I so often do), "Was it all really so long ago and far away?" "What's really changed?". I'm still me... right? Apart from the job, the bills, the kid, the husband... I'm still me. Or am I? Should I be? Never I was more confident, never happier, never more sure of anything than I was back then. That can only be good. Right?

It's the perennial paradox of my 'adult' life... being the same, while being so different. How does that happen? What switch did I flip? WTF happened?? Why shouldn't I still have poems on my wall, and glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling? Why shouldn't I still be the same big sister that sparked a little girl's imagination and filled her with the possibilities of all that can be - with a little faith in yourself and a little strength of your convictions?

I'm older. I know more. And yet, never have I felt smaller and less sure.

Back then, I wasn't afraid to be wrong. I wasn't afraid to live... because life was all I had. The raw experience of it; the heady intoxication of it. Alive and in the moment was the only way to be.

Fuck fear! Fuck propriety! Fuck me... I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing!

HELP...!

Most people would rather be certain they're miserable, than risk being happy. ~Robert Anthony

Last week, I spent that last few days before the weekend in a state of mild depression. Pyjamas all day, weepy and defeated. I told Hubby that it was because I missed Little Tyke so much, and that was a big part of it but I also feel there was something more to it.

Since my last blog post I've been excruciatingly conflicted - trying to reconcile knowing that I've been F*&king up with the powerful urge to retreat into my comfort zone in order to escape that very fact (and thereby perpetuating the vicious cycle). I spoke last time about power and responsibility. What has struck me (and frankly scares me to death) is the fact that - contrary to what I had been telling myself - the power has always been there, and all this time I have essentially using my power for evil and not for good.

I had a pretty decent weekend and this Monday morning finds me particularly chirpy and hopeful, but I can't help reminding myself that that's how I started out last week... and the week before, and the one before that. Sometimes I wonder if I truly am a lost cause. How can I know all of these things cognitively and still not be able to act on them in such a way that I feel that I've made even the slight bit of progress in living a satisfying life?

I've been able to fix myself before. I managed to get over the biggest heartbreak of my life, to extricate myself from the worst emotional abuse I've ever experienced, even succeeded at quitting smoking after 9 years, and losing 10kgs in a couple of months! And how did I do it? I took it one day at a time. Everyday, I was able to examine my every thought and action and decide whether it was the right thing for me - if it was going to get me to where I wanted to be. So how come I can't seem to be able to do that now... even though I know for sure that it's the only way?!

Then I realise that what sets those hurdles apart from what I'm going through now is that I wanted to do it. I had the will, because I came to not only realise cognitively, but also believe in my soul that living with those situations was doing me much more harm than good. But now, the comfort of not living up to expectations (even if they're my own), of letting life just 'happen' to me, of clinging to my fear. That comfort is just too enticing. Could it be that I don't want to get better, to BE better?

Startling, I know. But it's the only theory that makes sense. Even back when I was still working towards the victories I just mentioned, my thinking behind it was not nearly as deep and considered as it is now. I just knew I had to do it, and keep at it til I finally got there. Why then can I not replicate the same sort of triumph in my life now? Now that I have the added advantage of all my years of experience and introspection. Why?

I hate admiting my shortcomings, especially admitting them to myself. It hurts to know how I've been sabotaging myself and continue to do so over and over. The 'whys' of the situation are important but I don't know if right now I really have the emotional capital or perspective to figure them out. Last week's depression scared me and made me realise that maybe therapy wouldn't be a bad idea. If I had the money I would have booked a session right then and there.

There are some things that exist deep down that no amount of self-help will... well... help me with. I think that in the past I may have prided myself on the fact that I'm a deep thinker, a student of the human psyche. But more and more I'm feeling that I can't keep trying to do it on my own. I'm in no way admitting defeat, but I am admitting that I need help.

It's a tough road and I see now that I've been making light of the gravity of the task of achieving real happiness. Even as I type this, I'm tempted to take it all back. I feel so disappointed in my weakness. I keep wanting to say, "I'm sure I could get it right. I just need another Monday, another new month, another new year". But I don't have the luxury of that. My life's gotta change. It's gotta be soon and it's gotta be for good!

However, I remain hopeful. I spent the weekend catching up on loads of painfully neglected work and was up early this morning finalising that process. On that front, I'm pretty much on an even footing - for the first time in months! I've made some progress putting a plan together for the launch of Hubby and Big Bro's debut album - which I'm very excited about, I might add. Unfortunately, I only got one workout in last week and haven't nearly been eating right but everyday's as a new opportunity to do things differently. I've just got to keep taking the opportunities as they come.

The point is, I can't carry on being so hard on myself. And as much as it feels like a cop-out, I must admit that there are some things that I just don't know how to fix and, until I do, I need to just do what I can with the knowledge I've got. Because, in the immortal words of Maya Angelou, "When you know better, you do better". At least I have now learned that I need to know more about myself before I can be a better version of myself.

Update [May 2010]: I think I've found some of that help I needed. It was here all along!

Image: (c) Optiknerve-gr

Power

Anything I've ever done that ultimately was worthwhile... initially scared me to death. ~Betty Bender

As difficult as it is, Little Tyke's absence has represented an opportunity for me to achieve, chase, or - at the very least - set some goals. One of the many opportunities represented by Little Tyke being in Z is the chance for Hubby and I to 're-connect', another is for me to spend more time on myself: nurturing, feeding & taking care of the most vital parts of me, yet another is to get my career in order.

So, in what I suppose can be seen as an inevitable event, what began as the simple realisation of a new-found freedom, has become an ever-increasingly over-bearing 'to-do' list. So many goals, so much internal pressure to live up to it all. It's almost as if I've got some point to prove.

...and if I do have something to prove, what is it and who do I need to prove it to?

I had an epiphany yesterday - I came to realise that every second of my life is under my complete and total control. Now, I've watched enough episodes of Oprah and read enough self-help books to know that that little bit of information is nothing new. However, for me in that instant, it was the first time in YEARS that I have had that thought and processed it deeply enough for it to actually stike a tangible cord within me, "I decide. I choose".

I was in tears. I had a total breakdown, brought on by the realisation that for so many years... nay, too many years, I had been feeling that I had no control... none. Feeling that stuff just kept happening to me. A victim? Dare I admit it? But, I had to admit it - and that moment of truth reduced me to tears. Hadn't I always believed that victims chose to be victims? Oh, the shock of realising that I had made that choice!

Obviously, 'what to do about it' becomes the next burning question, and the answer is down to a very simple process of thought. "You are in control, right?" Right. "So you can make your life what you want it to be, therefore all you have to do is do what it takes to make it so.

"But how?", a sceptical voice enquires. "Well, excercise your power down to its furthest reach. You control every second of your life, right?" Right. "So, in every second of your life, decide whether whatever you are doing, going to do, or are thinking of doing is going to get your life to be what you want it to be".

At that point, I just burst into audible sobs. I knew how to do that. That's why the initial realisation was so gutting. At every moment I've known that I've been working at cross-purposes with my self. It was nothing more than self-sabotage.

"But you're STILL in control. Even as you sob, you can choose - after you've dried the tears, blown your nose and thrown away the tissues - to leave it there or to pursue the solution. You can cry about how you've screwed up or you can try to figure out why you screwed up and and how to fix it. Take the power you have gained in admitting to a problem and multiply it, by directing it towards working out a way to make it right".

Wow! I can actually do that, can't I? Right here and right now. I don't need to wait until I've reached my lowest point; until I'm a shell of myself and I feel that life has nothing left to offer me. I can make a decision right now. It's not too late to reclaim control.

Then the tears came even harder. But this time they came from outside of me. It was the fear. The fear that has ruled me with such fierce tenacity for so long. It suddenly appeared from the shadows, like a fur-coat-wearing, feather-hat-donning pimp in a dark alley. I could feel my figurative hand instinctively rise to its metaphorical cheek in a double-act of defense and acceptance of the inevitable. I knew this fear was my master and it had just walked in on my conversation about the underground railroad with another rabble-rousing slave. In that instant I knew I had seen a familiar light, but the gravity and difficulty of getting to it, suddenly became so intensly clear to me - clearer that it had been in a while.

I stood there, staring it in the face. Confronted by my fear in its full and supremely intimidating glory. I wish I could describe the epic showdown that was going on in my mind at that moment... but long story short - I flinched, and by the end of it I was on some "Yessir, Masser. Don't worry, this uppity nigg*r was just leaving". I sat there. Spent. Eyes flitting back and forth, as I pantingly tried to figure out what had just happened. I saw my fear - looked it in the eye and as much I wanted to erase its image from my mind, I had to force myself to consider how powerful it honestly was. Scary, we can agree on; but if I were ever to defy it, what's the absolute worse that could actually happen?

I left that particular 'train' of thought right there, though (baby steps, I guess). So at this point all that I know for sure is that I AM in control. The consequences of actually excercising that power are a different matter. The ugly truths that I'll have to accept, the fears I'll have to overcome... all of that is a bridge that can only be crossed when I come to it. In a way, deep down inside I know that this little realisation is not for nothing. I do have a point to prove, and who do I have to prove it to? That very same fear.

It all just brings me back to my earliest mission... back to just getting on with life. Just doing what I have to do. I can't help feeling that I'm just spinning my tyres, though. I've been here before - epiphanies and deep introspection: it's what I do best. Action, though - that's what seems to be so elusive.

I'm thinking that the best way to deal with it is to take it one second at a time... "Excercise your power down to its furthest reach.... (second by second) In every second of your life, decide whether whatever you are doing, going to do, or are thinking of doing is going to get your life to be what you want it to be".

With great power, comes great responsibility, they say. My first task is to exercise the power. It remains to be seen whether I can handle the responsibility.

Doing the work

Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work. ~Thomas Edison

This week has gotten off to a pretty good start. It's actually made me realise how much I love feeling like I've accomplished something... the pressure, the mad rush, no time to think or take calls. Monday was like that. Tuesday too - to a lesser extent. It was exhilirating!

I hate feeling like my contributions are meaningless. My job does that to me more often than not, and I suppose that's my fault in a lot of ways. I guess after 4 years, the novelty has kind of worn off and I'm just not feeling it as much. Besides, I'm not tryin to be employed for the rest of my life and, in my head, this job has just become a means to an end.

Hubby, Big Bro and I have started a small company - and by 'started' I mean it's registered with the company's office and that's about it. I'm trying to get us to put together a proposal to do some stuff for a new community television station, but the momentum is just not building. I think we've all just kind of been lulled into a deep comfort zone by our 9-5's and since our company's not bringing in any money, it's no surprise that it takes second place.

This is just one of the many 'grown-folk' things I'm trying to get my head around. It's scary being on your own. Not alone, but on your own. No parachute or safety net in the form of Mommy or Daddy. Pretty much everything is a risk now coz you have to bail yourself out if it all goes pear-shaped. It's only natural that you'd want to play it safe.

But I'm tired of playing it safe. I really feel like I'm confined in a prison of my own making. These self-imposed chains of fear... fear of failure, which breeds fear of trying. It's like a vicious cycle and I just want to break free! How fabulous it would be to just feel free.

It all begins with me. Yes, I know. But how? I have a lot of answers and things I know for sure, but most of it just creates more questions in my head. It's like I know all the universal truths, but what's MY truth? How does all apply to me? That's the pivotal question of my life and I am so desperate to find an answer to it.

Nothingness

All say, "How hard it is that we have to die" - a strange complaint to come from the mouths of people who have had to live. ~Mark Twain

Yesterday, I found out that a guy I basically grew up with died a few days ago – committed suicide, actually. Damn! I couldn’t believe it. I’m still so shaken.

I can’t even say that we were close, not even friends really. But… damn! All I could think was, “he’s gone” – like forever. He is no more. It is over. I’ve known him since primary school, since we were all snot-nosed, ashy-kneed kids! And now he’s gone!

I think more than anything it got me really scared about my own life. Although, in his case, he chose to end his life – the fact remains that you just never know when it’ll be time for your curtain call. This guy was so sweet and solid. An all-round nice guy, hectically talented musically, and, from what I hear, at the peak of his career. But now, he is gone.

What about me? I am far from perfect (to put it gently), and really haven’t done much worthwhile with my life. I don’t want it to be too late.

So much time is spent analyzing my life and not enough living it. What if I were to be gone tomorrow? That question got me thinking…

Do we worry about dying because of the people we are leaving behind and the things we still want to do, or do we worry that when we die there will be nothing left of us? I know what my answer is… I am afraid that if I die, there will be nothing left, no lasting legacy (besides my son) – just an empty seat or an unoccupied room. No void, that’s painfully missing something – just nothing.

What have I done, who’s life have I changed, what have I created, what difference have I made in the world at large and the one in which I live? Nothing, no-one, nothing, none at all… NOTHING.

Damn! Imagine that… imagine amounting to nothing, being nothing, meaning nothing. I don’t want to go out like that, but I truly feel it may be too late.

I struggle with this one thing: I don’t want to be something I’m not. I’m not a ‘people person’, not good at keeping friendships or staying in contact. I’m not outgoing or particularly kind. I don’t know how to be selfless. I’m not good at staying focused. I’m not driven. I’m barely ambitious. But then I wonder is that who or what I should be trying to be?

Should I just be me? But me is so… so, bleh. Or maybe me has yet to be discovered. I struggle everyday with that. I think I don’t particularly like myself, so should I be trying to change myself or learning to love myself? Do I even know myself? Sometimes I’m like “Dude, you’re 27. By now you’ve got a pretty good idea of who you are”. And at the same time I’m like “But, this can’t be it. This can’t be me. There’s got to be something more, something better”.

And that’s when the fear sets in, that’s when I think… “what if there isn’t?”