Selfish

"Give 'till it hurts" and "walk that extra mile" are preached from pulpit and stage across the world, but have you ever truly done that? If so, you understand the strain these two statements have. Children have been brainwashed with these for generations and as adults discover they come up short every time. Why do they preach this nonsense? Because if you are willing to give everything, you are completely their puppet. These two statements are always synonymous with their supposed "evil" opposite of "selfish, self-centered, and greedy." There is a huge flaw in these "moral" teachings; when you give all of your "self" to another you no longer control the one thing you are guaranteed for your entire lifetime.

A more accurate form of these two statements would be:

"Let me tell you what to do and don't dare complain about it"

 and

"When you think you have done enough, you're wrong"

With these two weapons, generations have been imprisoned by those that they have given authority over their lives. Suicide is prevalent in our country and most didn't believe themselves "worthy" of this life or the shame and hurt were unbearable. How could they when they never walk far enough or hurt enough? Dare go against the "teachings?" Selfish! is labeled on you immediately; wretched, selfish fool! You strayed from the "good" flock. 

Having been victimized terribly as a child, I found myself looking for a savior. Church taught me to "give it to god," but I did and I felt worse. God wasn't saving me and the pain was worse, because now I had to contend with not being worthy of the help. "You don't have enough faith" was the answer I was given. Never truly any answers; dare question enough and find yourself solemnly "counseled" to find another church. There is a reason they want you to never search your own soul; you will find yourself and there will be no more room for them. No more "proving" yourself worthy and no more hurting. 

My soul found itself screaming out to me about 3 years ago. As usual, I tried to sweep all my hurt back under the rug, but this time the pieces had shattered so many times they were now the size of single grains of sand. I had no choice but to pick up each piece individually and deal with that problem. It was the biggest fight of my life.

Each piece hurt worse than the previous, but as I searched for closure I noticed my burdens being lifted. I began to realize all the knowledge of this life, "my" life was within my own soul. There was no reason to fight to be worthy of another's imagination and demands because I am worthy. I began to rescue that hurt little girl from my past and grow to the woman my life was destined for. There was no more falling on the altar and begging for escape because all I needed was in my own soul.

Our bodies and our soul are the only things we are guaranteed to have our whole life. That being said, take care of them! Don't willingly give them away to another because you fear you can't possibly care for your self. Self preservation is key and if you refuse you'll end up dead until you die. Selfishness is used to shame people. Would you shame a baby for crying because they were hungry (I have discovered there actually are some freaks that preach babies are indeed selfish and should be spanked for their incessant crying. This statement does not include these demons)? No, it wouldn't be considered evil. It is only considered evil by the one that asked you to give what you couldn't. We allow these perpetrators to hurt us by accepting selfishness as shameful.

What then is selfishness? It isn't evil as some want and need you to believe. Selfish, to me, means tending to my soul. If my soul needs rest, peace, harmony, to say no, to say yes, to give, to receive, to love, to be intimate, to smile, cry, laugh, or scream, I let it! I refuse to be shamed by any that are insecure and believe they need my soul. Wretched soul stealing monsters they are! Don't give in no matter the pressure. You have permission give it to your self! I am the master of my universe and now that I have reclaimed my soul, don't dare try to steal it!

Too many people need to recover and conquer. Too many believe the man-crafted lies to keep them under-thumb. Flush out those shameful teachings! Let them flit away in the wind! Don't be ashamed of YOUR successes, everyone can succeed if they choose. Sadly, many refuse to choose themselves; because that my dear, would be selfish.

"Freedom will you find, when your own soul you seek"

-Jennifer Young

Son Forever

Son Forever

With me currently writing my book, my son wrote his story for me; he scribbled it on a sheet of notebook paper front side and halfway filling the back. Sons are a special treat for mothers. We "boy moms" can tell you "daughter only" moms from a mile away. Daughter only moms stick out like a sore thumb. Perfect hair, schedules to the very minute, white pants at the park complete with matching hair bows, and the ever annoying requests to have my sons "calm down" a bit. Boys live for the moment. There is no "deeper meaning" we women try to analyze. Until a woman has a son or sons, we never truly realize men are in fact easily pleased. Basically, you just keep them fed which is much more difficult than one might think. I remember attempting to find a food my son wouldn't eat; one word, impossible. Boys are loyal. As a woman, I never understood the required butt woopen' that would ensue a "momma" put down. As a boy's mom, I understand. There is no greater insult to a boy that loves his mom. So much weight has been placed in the media on "fathers and daughters." Mother/son relationships are just as important! Here is my son's life:

My life started, obviously, when I was born

(simple, like I said earlier)

I remember my great-grandpa Bob,

He died when I was only 2. I wanted to know him a lot better. My dad

says he was a really nice guy; I guess that's where my

dad gets it from. I guess he knew me better than I thought

because when I was four he appeared to me. We were at

my great-aunt's house. That night, I was showing

everyone my paper-airplanes. I heard a voice

from behind me say "Kaleb, squeeze the middle of your

plane and ball up the ends like a telephone. Now hand it to your aunt."

I handed the phone to her and she pretended to talk to it.

She asked me "who is it?" I told her "your dad."

She started to pretend talk to him, but I told her

"he really is on the phone. He gave you a 

present today." Everyone, started to realize

I was talking to grandpa Bob. Grandpa had given 

them all a present that day (he had pre-planned it before his physical death)

 and I hadn't known

about it. He stayed that night walking around

he stood by my great-grandma a lot, but

she couldn't see him. He smiled the whole time as he 

walked around. He stood behind me a lot. He was very bright

like the sunshine. He visited me more through

my young years. I always wanted to know him

and I guess he knew that so he visited

me a lot. My great-grandma needs him more

than me now, so he stands by her bed at her house. He

always gives me a smile or wave when I go

visit her, but he stays with her now; he is waiting for her.

Did you see that coming? I didn't think so. Like I said, raising sons can be amazing. With the life I have lived, I refuse to tell my children things aren't possible. Yes, accepting my son is a medium was strange to say the least. The special thing about that day, there were so many others, was his grandpa had promised one of his daughters a phone call after he passed. He called, loyal beyond the grave, as promised. I am inspired by what our children can do if we never tell them "no" or "that is wrong or evil." My oldest son has always had a strong sense of self. He is passionate, caring, and has a strong moral compass all developed within his own soul. Who am I to tell him "that isn't possible" or "can you calm down?" How could I when not only is he my son, but other's son, and loved so much some return beyond the grave to watch over and guide him.

Light,Growth, and Perfection.

As I mentioned in a previous post, it took a long time to reach the acceptance and satisfaction I have with my life. To understand that statement, my journey needs to be better explained.

My mother was diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic shortly after my older sister's birth; I never knew the "sane" version of my mother (I consider myself fortunate I didn't watch her decline). My life was lived for her, as was my grandmother's wishes, we "accommodated" whatever her whims were so as not to upset her. This accommodating led to her free rein over my childhood. My younger sister was terribly sickly and our dad spent most of his off time in hospitals with her because my mother couldn't handle the burden. This left me with my mother when she was unmedicated, insane, and  she was never held accountable. Many terrible things happened to me and left terrible emotional scars. I was a skilled thief because my mom always seemed to forget little kids need to eat. I also was, and still am, very good with directions and maps. I knew how to "find my way" back home. I struggled early on with detecting "reality" from "fiction" and refused to watch cartoons at an early age simply because I knew they weren't "real." I was not disciplined and made my own rules; in short, I was an obnoxious, spoiled brat. My adolescence was terrible. I became a "woman" much earlier than most girls did and this led my mother to believe other worldly things were happening (think the movie Carrie where she burns the school down with everyone in it). My teen years brought on another pursuit after "truth" and religion. I wanted desperately to have unconditional love and god was the answer. I strove for perfection and wore myself down quickly. I joined a cult hiding under the "christian" blanket and worked harder than humanly possible to become worthy of the lord. At 15, I met the boy who would become the man I married a year later at 16. I was disgusted with myself for disappointing "god" with my pregnancy and shot-gun wedding. Ever the inquisitive (I will question people to the point of insanity) type, I led myself away from the cult I had dragged my husband and then 2 children into some 8 years later. My mother's decline had progressively gotten worse and her range was over 3 states. Many of my days were spent chasing her over the countryside. My husband and I took temporary custody of my baby sister due to my mother's illness and the situations she was putting my sister in. I found myself still searching for god and spiraling down into a terrible depression.

At 25, I became pregnant with our twins and the economy crashed. My mother still was at the forefront of my struggles, but now alongside losing everything we had. My husband had his own struggles he needed to overcome and his no longer being my "stability" took me over the brink of sanity. When my twins were 18 months old, I looked at them with disdain and blamed their birth on the current turmoil our lives were in. A few weeks later, we decided to sell everything but the clothes on our back and move 1100 miles away. Many accused us of "running away" from our problems, but I am forever grateful we had the courage to leave.

It wasn't easy leaving everything we both had known and taking our children away from all they had known either. We successfully left behind most of our "problems," except my mother. She walked the 1100 miles here; however she did hitchhike, got raped and the man attempted her murder. He dropped her body in the woods in Tennessee, but tough as she is, she came around, crawled to a light in the distance, and drug herself onto an elderly couples porch; they called 911. After a 6 day hospital stay, she was back on the road to my house. 

After years of blaming god and everyone else for my hardships, I decided to "find" myself I had buried years before. I realized god wasn't for me, but finding myself was the tricky part. I started by claiming how I felt from one day to the next. I didn't allow myself the generic "fine" I really identified how I felt. Three months of that before I finally could identify with my feelings. I realized I had built a fortress of emotionless "strength." My strength was truly weakness because it was false. I had lived a life for someone else and denied myself any growth. Never had I done what I wished, desired, or wanted. I didn't love and was driven by fear; fear of life, death, failure, and success. I didn't know how to do anything, I was crippled and it was self inflicted.

Looking back, I know it was me that endured these hardships, but it wasn't "me" that shouldered them. I blamed others not accepting I was the one that said "yes." When I was tired, weak, burdened, or downright exhausted, still I said "yes." I allowed others' burdens to overshadow my own. I extended my own neck out on the chopping block. 

I have learned from my life. I have learned to say "no" and when to say "yes." I no longer strive for perfection because I know I am perfect. Perfect for the life I live. Perfect for my husband. Perfect for my children. Perfect for the world. I used to see my mother as a direct reflection of myself. I now know she is her own. She too is perfect; perfect for her life. While she still needs my help and I freely give it, I do allow her to suffer the consequences of her actions; this has lifted yet another burden from me. I have let her sit in jail and serve her time, I have gone to courts and made her go to the hospital, and I have learned to not feel guilty about it. I can only do what I can do when I can do it. That has become my motto.

Oh what freedom to escape my self-inflicted trials!

Driving Ms. Crazy: Laughter Gets Me Through It

Driving Ms. Crazy: Laughter Gets Me Through It:         While many people are often shocked to hear what I have been through with my mom, many times I choose to laugh rather than giving in...

I Ching, My Daughters, and Me

             For the last week, my I Ching has repeatedly encouraged me to return my life to balance. The same hexagram everyday for an entire week is never a good thing. What, I wondered daily, was blocking me? "Burdens of the ego," was the answer (my interpretation) the I Ching kept giving. Being a mother of four school age students, being in college myself, and a wife makes for quite the hectic schedule. How was I supposed to identify what the burden/block I was experiencing was? The I Ching told me that too.....give some time to myself, consecrated, sacred time set aside for myself. So, I started off the first day at 5 am for my "time." I found nothing, but the need for an early nap. The block to my creativity and ability to maintain my equanimity continued and I gave up, the burden would find me itself.
          Saturday morning at 6 am I woke up and readied myself to walk to the farmer's market. My twins were awake, so they came along too. About two blocks from the market, my 5 year old daughter began to skip and squeal with delight. I remembered how I loved to skip too; I was like Forrest Gump with his running. Why walk when you can skip? It is much more fun! I remembered the things I thought when I skipped. How I escaped into an imaginary world where everything was right. Where birds sang beautiful songs and floated down on your shoulder to say good morning. I found myself hoping my daughter didn't need to escape and that I had a place in her daydreams while skipping. We tasted great foods and bought plenty of fresh fruits and vegetables. We returned home and I began making fresh bread.
          Later in the afternoon, my oldest daughter, the twins, and I went for a walk to the ice cream shop. We had a great time. Not long after we arrived home, I received a phone call, from a sherriff's deputy. Just great! My mom was being arrested. I called out to my oldest daughter to quickly bring me a pen and paper. She responded with "what?" Angered I shouted "I need a pen and paper now!" She still didn't understand me. Frustrated with the situation her younger brother declared "in the panda cup!" She handed me the pen and I jotted down the numbers I would need to inquire what to do about my mother. Thoroughly frustrated, kneeding bread dough seemed to be the answer to my anxious nerves. While kneeding the dough, I could faintly hear "mom" being called down the hall. I ignored it because as usual I had no time for teenage demands. Again, but this time more urgent, faintly I heard "mom" twice. I marched down the hallway and spat out "what?" To my horror, my 14 year old daughter was not ok. Her entire body heaved as she tried to talk to me. She was becoming more upset and began to cry. As I looked her over, felt her head for fever, and began to question her, I began to realize she had experienced a severe medical issue. Her eyes were fully dialated with no iris showing and she wasn't able to easily move her body. She had a seizure while I was pissed at her. I was devastated. How could I just assume she was being a "pain" as teenagers usually are?How could I have denied her sensitivity when she needed it most? To the hospital we would go, but much like her mother, this would be a fight. After 30 minutes of threats to drag her if necessary, she finally agreed to go. She stumbled down the hall and out to the waiting car. The hospital had no answers, just more tests her doctor would need to run. 6 hours later, we were back home.
            I sat with my I Ching, again, and it said the same exact thing once again. "Seriously?" I thought. What in the world am I supposed to do? I took myself to the art museum, alone for once, and there in a painting from the turn of the century was my oldest daughter. Dressed in a sailor's uniform and hung beautifully for all the world to see. I wondered in awe at the painting, but was elated to realize if my daughter wanted to, she wouldn't be resigned to play dress up as a sailor, she can be one! I hoped in that moment she knew I will support whatever path her life takes; whatever choice she makes. I still felt no "answer" for my burden.
           Today, me and the I Ching, again the exact same hexagram! So, I locked my door, turned up Beethoven,  and waited for the answer. Finally, it came. The same hopes,  regrets, dreams, and worries I have for my daughters, I need to give to myself. I worry about them, I hope for them, I would fight to the death and kill for them (my sons too). I must remember I once was those two young girls. Skipping to escape, but no mother to protect me. There is the answer, my burden is fear. It always has been, but how do I let it go?
       Another poem. I guess I have had too much emotion lately, so poetry will be my outlet:
Little Girl

I see you little girl
From the past,
Those memories you burn,
They last.
I see you little girl,
With your smile so big.
Isn't it fun,
To skip down the path.
Where is your mother?
Could it be,
She grew up?
Somehow, you got me.
Where is your mother?
Did she say,
She would watch
And keep you
Safe?
I see you little girl
So scared.
No compassion for you
Only pity.
I see you little girl
Wishing to fight.
Fight for the life
You dream.
Where is your mother?
Is she gone,
Back in her head,
Where the voices consume her.
Where is your mother?
Are you alone?
In this mischievous land?
I see you little girl,
Half grown.
Powerful  inside,
Yet gentle without.
I see you little girl,
Take my hand.
Great memories
Will we make;
Old memories
To replace.

            Too many people have tried to tell me I don't know how to be a mother. True, I didn't have the "best" around, but she was my mother nevertheless. Why do we think we must model ourselves after another to do  "right" and avoid "wrong?" My daughters are mine, and I must remind myself I am their mother. No one else could do what I do. Not with my girls. I also have to mourn for the little girl who dealt with my life. If it weren't for her trials, I would never have triumphed! Tomorrow, I hope, the burden will have lifted and I can return to peace.