…in a place that is unfamiliar to most but home to others there lived a girl who wanted things. I was born into a family of five. Being third in line, I often found myself smack dab in the middle of “No Man’s Land”. A mythical place where whatever you do goes unnoticed and unappreciated because you weren’t first on the scene or the last one to arrive. I grew up feeling like a TV listing for Wednesday night viewing. Family shows with no real excitement or sex appeal. Meh!
This past week was not stellar for me. I haven’t had to deal with this much stress, uncertainty and anger since my Pops passed away. I guess it might have been time for Karma to shake her ugly stick at me as a way to remind me who exactly is the boss here.
I have been a wanter my whole life. I wanted to be loved; I am! I wanted to be noticed. Do you see me? I wanted to be famous. the jury is still out on this one. I wanted to be a person that others looked up to. I want happiness. = ) I want. I want. I want; but why? I am indeed loved. I am happy even when I fight myself about how happy I am supposed to be (as if happy comes with a formulary!) Does getting everything you want open the path to peace? or have I struggled this long because I have been too foolish to realize I have everything I have ever needed the entire time?
Knowing when to return to my true self has always been the toughest road for me to travel. I have many miles to go before I sleep. There are things left to do. I am leaving behind all the bad mojo that flooded over me after last week’s event. Bad shit happens to good people all the time. It’s what you do with the aftermath that determines where your path will lead.
Never Give UP On The Person You Are Meant To Be
ease on down the road
As people go I am not a big fan of being thought of as a number. Counted, sorted, relegated to a pile. I am not Borg. Seven of nine or any other combination there of. Having said that I can’t help but wonder about all the ways that we as people put numbers on things to give importance to events, people, places. Is first place all that there is? The end all, be all? There is something to be said for the one who sticks in there and crosses the finish line last. Perseverance, pride in accomplishing a task that one has started but was afraid to undertake. I would much rather have the last slice of cake than the first but that is just how I roll. Last piece for me means there is no way I can keep eating something that I shouldn’t have tasted in the first place. = )
Trying to be that number we set for ourselves can be a scary, daunting task. I have been a WW for seven years. I have been close to my “number” only once. I try not to let the scale define who I am or who I think I should be. The scale only really measures the pull of gravity on your body. We all joke that Gravity is not our friend. She causes wrinkles and sagging. We say Karma is a bitch, go figure.
I hate judgment days. Weigh in days. Tipping the scales or whatever other dreaded name this event has. It is a necessary evil. It can help a person to be brave enough to continue but it can also dash your greatest hopes and make you face truths you just don’t want to see. I am the one responsible for my own success not that scale. I put in the work, or some days not. I am the one.
I am more than a number.
I am trying to make peace with a bad coping mechanism that I foolishly taught myself. Feed a hungry child? Yes, but NEVER teach someone to soothe bad feelings with a cookie. It is a BAD idea. A hug, a real hug and some encouraging words take a person a lot farther than a chocolate cake ever carried anyone. My greatest hope? Some day I will wake up and live in my moment. Enjoy every wonderful and horrible thing that comes my way without THINKING about eating a bag of chips “to take my mind off” the unpleasantness of my moment.