The question. Will I ever be satisfied and content with everything I have? Simple and honest answer. No, I don’t really think so. The journey of self-exploration has proved to be worth following. There is always an undying thirst for questions to be answered that is never quite quenched. Why such a strong desire to always explore? Search for more, search for everything I don’t have, never had, but yet, more searching for answers that I have already found. Then the questions…Was the answer right? Will it ever be right? Was, is it, right for me? But what the fuck is right? Who gets to define what is right for me? Those thoughts are always circling through my brain. I have trouble keeping it straight. Continuing with experiences long enough to let them develop as part of me is a slight issue. The experiences that do stay with me, and have grown to be a continuous part of me, often surprise me. It’s when I stop and take a step back, that I realize just how splendid everything is. Why should I want to change that? Why should I run and try something else or make changes when something is working? I accept my mind does crave constant change; Darwin was on to something with adapting to survive. Could be up until the last recent year, I had to keep life in perpetual motion to survive through the last 28 years. That sounds so over-dramatic and ridiculous, even to me. But, I may be on to something, I think. Pulling loose some of the strings in my memory, childhood was perfect until about ago of eight (at least my perception of perfect). Then progressively more difficult and emotionally challenging thereafter. To clarify I was never beaten, abused, or not loved. I don’t have a tragic Lifetime like story about overcoming huge obstacles and making it out a survivor. I had a roof over my head, food, clothing, friends, and a family who loved me. But there has always been something missing. A single word comes to mind. Acceptance (we shall come back to this point).
After my parents’ divorce when I was ten, I came to accept my father didn’t even like me, wrote me off until I was an adult. As I choose to live with my Mother after the divorce. That is a story for another time. I’ve worked out the “Daddy” issues, as they were. Compartmentalizing works wonders.
My mother, she is the one who raised me (when I wasn’t raising myself). She tried, but her standards and expectations are high. Very high. Fair, but tough. This made me work harder, learn what real responsibility was. She inherently ingrained high expectations me as a default, hardwired me to be completely independent and self-reliant. Those are strong attributes to have in life, but it’s a curse at the same time. She was always there for me, but only during the instants she thought she should be for. I was the oldest. I heard the words “No”, and “Because I said so” more times than I can count. Mostly for typical activities…sleepovers, dances, trips, social activities, sports, and small things that mean the world to a child or teenager. (I was thought this was so unfair, I never got to do anything, poor me…LOL) To be fair, my Mother was a single woman raising two kids on her own and had to work VERY hard to provide what we had. Time was a precious thing for her, still is. She didn’t have a lot of extra time to cart me around and indulge in everything I wanted to do. But that’s only half the picture. I got to do a lot, but I learned to work around the word “No”, and still do things. Mostly by running down every detail and making sure she wouldn’t be burdened with the carting around. A lot of the time I still was told “No”, (not that I listened to it) but not all of the time. Again, to be fair I wasn’t an easy teenager, I didn’t do the normal negative social norms (i.e. drugs, sex, drinking, and other nonsense) I was more impulsive than anything. Constantly trying to beat the system, pick out the loopholes to make it work to my advantage. Again, I didn’t like the word “No”, so usually it was some intricate idea to do something simple. Covering all the bases I like to say. The experiences were simple enough, nothing that was going to hurt anyone (mostly just setting myself up to get grounded). At least I can admit that. I wish I would have made it easier on her, but it just didn’t happen. So from what I learned, was to try and not be a burden to people. I hated asking for help, it always appeared I was never getting it (sometimes which was true). Partly due to the fact that I was inpatient, impulsive and self-absorbed (really, I just couldn’t wait). Brings another wonderful trait to the surface, I’ve learned, as I have aged…Patience. I realized now, I learned that from her. She had the most amazing patience, even though I must have drove her crazy. Now, she drives me crazy (and I love her for it).
I come back to the word Acceptance. This is peer to peer acceptance, and true self-acceptance. To define..."Peer acceptance is measured by the quality rather than the quantity of a child or adolescent's relationships. While the number of friends varies among children and over time as a child develops, peer acceptance is often established as early as preschool. Factors such as physical attractiveness, cultural traits, and disabilities affect the level of peer acceptance, with a child's degree of social competence being the best predictor of peer acceptance. " During my childhood I was never part of the “In-crowd”, but nor was I a so called "Outcast". I usually feel something in the middle. We moved around a lot when I was younger, and I never quite got my bearings in one place long enough to be comfortable. I always had friends and was well liked. Usually a sense of humor helped. I just never felt comfortable or secure in my own skin until I was an adult. I have NEVER been like anyone else. Period. I tend to stand out, even when I don’t want to (reasons for this tend to vary). During my elementary, middle-school, and high school years, I was teased. (A lot). This provided a strong platform to never let my guard down, but always smile, never to let someone know they were getting to me. Being not very active in sports, band, clubs, or any other extracurricular activities in high school, I am sure I missed out on a quite a few experiences that would have helped this feeling, but alas (if you only knew then, what you know now)it’s too late now. I have found self-acceptance in the last ten years. More so after the last 12 months, it gives me a level of comfort not there before. A quest for self-reflection, self-discovery, and better idea of my own psychology and how it can affect myself and others. It all helps. It just takes time…
(hugs)
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