Saturday, March 17, 2012
Been Berry Good To Me
I'm really happy Andy Pettitte is back on the Yankees. I always thought he was adorable. Oh yeah, the pitching is fine too. It's another something to look forward to this baseball season. Love baseball. Love it. I'm bad at watching the first part of the season, though. It's the playoffs and the AL East that really excites me. What a great division! It's always a horserace in the end. As far as I'm concerned, a great deal of the time, the end of the AL east season is better than the playoffs themselves.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/American_League_East
Go Yankees! Bah Red Sox! Oh it was too funny though. I met these people at Crabby Bill's not too long ago - dyed in the wool Bostonians. The O'Malley's. Real characters, with that extremely distinctive accent that is so unintentionally amusing to me. I was razzing them about the Sox, and they took it surprisingly well, with plenty of humor. Good for them. Clearly, there was not a hateful bone in their bodies. They even told me they liked the Yankees. Like them, sure. Wish they would lose? Probably! Hah! I'll be thinking about them this season. They were just too memorable. Sometimes you meet people and they just stick in your mind. They are like that.
Intermezzo
This blog has been driving me crazy. I couldn't stand what I wrote before, can't stand talking about it, can't seem to avoid it either. I have so many positive things happening in my life, and to just let what I wrote before stand - alone - seems dishonest. This is supposed to be my blog about whatever I feel like, and I feel so much more than the anger and hurt that I've managed to express so far.
Writing is hard! My joys and my accomplishments seem trivial to write about - and they aren't. Being happy in this world is not easy, it's something to be grateful for, and while I am, I'm having a hard time bringing that into this blog. But again, this blog should not be on how I am learning to write, I should just write. In that spirit, I will continue.
Writing is hard! My joys and my accomplishments seem trivial to write about - and they aren't. Being happy in this world is not easy, it's something to be grateful for, and while I am, I'm having a hard time bringing that into this blog. But again, this blog should not be on how I am learning to write, I should just write. In that spirit, I will continue.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Light
Briefly:
Now please don't get me wrong. I am not a Bible thumper. I am not involved with organized religion of any kind at this time. This is not a blog about religion. This is not a blog about the Bible. This blog is for me to say whatever I want to say, and share whatever I want to share. This blog is to get me back into the writing habit, and if there is emotional growth, if there is spiritual growth, then it's all to the good. I believe the Bible can be a very useful tool and can certainly guide you through life, a difficult, trying process. And if some of you want to pick up your Bible and look around those verses, please do so, because in that chapter are some wonderful passages with some very life-affirming and useful and practical ideas.
Like I said, I was making myself sick trying to write about my experiences, trying to articulate them to myself and to you. I realized that I was indulging in anger. I do have a lot of anger. I do believe a lot of it is entirely human and justifiable. But you can't live like that! I knew that, I knew it. I learned it once in life, let the bad things go, things got good for me. If I keep returning to that very negative experience, without enlightenment, without a view to the greater good, then I will succumb once again to anger, hate, hurt, sickness, and sadness.
The key phrase in the verses above is (italics mine): Do not let yourself be conquered by the evil, but keep conquering the evil with the good.
Not: conquer the evil, be done with it, and go on your merry way. Keep conquering the evil.
Now do I feel evil was done to me? Well, yeah. When someone important in your life has no self-control, when they have no fruitage of the spirit, when violence is enacted against a person, when they brutally hit you, you better believe it's evil. I can't call it a kiss, I can't call it love, I can't call it a fucking Valentine. When a child is made to feel humiliated and helpless and useless and unwanted and unloved - this is not discipline, this is not a teaching experience, this is abuse, and it is evil. And wrong! And it hurts! It trickles down into your life, into your years, into your actions and reactions, and it forms you, and it affects you terribly and there are steep prices to pay.
So yes, I want to write about it. I want to gain understanding from it. I am going to be still living with it when I am an old lady. It happened to me, and I am important. If I want to try to learn from it, why can't I? Understanding is a tall order, but it's coming. Nobody in my immediate family is going to help me understand it, no one is going to speak, so I have to sit here and have this conversation with myself, and with you. I have to do this all by myself. I have been rebuffed at every turn when I express interest in the past, or want to know any of my family's history. A few people have given me very important pieces that do, in fact, explain a great deal. Too little. But not too late, not too late for me. I can still live through this. I can still make myself a better person. I can still achieve a reasonable peace, a reasonable understanding. And maybe then, I won't feel like writing about it any more. But that has not happened yet.
What I realized was, I was going about it all in the wrong way. Keep conquering the evil. If I indulge in my anger, if I allow myself to feel just a little too deeply about it, I am just steeping myself in rage and horror and hell. And I don't deserve that. I deserve a LOT of peace and happiness and lightness and laughter and love. I had to overcome these negative feelings and experiences. I had to overcome major, clinical depression. I had to learn to find a way to go on, when there was absolutely nobody able and/or willing to help me. And I did it! I did it! Now is not the time to go back and start wrapping myself in negativity, not the time to be my own avenging angel, that's simply not my job. My job is to be peaceable with all men. My job is to yield place to the wrath. My job is to keep overcoming the evil. Because the evil is still there, and it still hurts me. It doesn't go away entirely, not ever. Well. Maybe some day it will. Ask me at the end of my life, and I will let you know.
When you give in to this particular knowledge, when you try to overcome the evil with good, there is a deep relief and peace in it. I had a nice long talk today with Jehovah, and the answers came to me. Now some of you will say, you had a meditative moment with yourself, and you figured it out. You are free to think that. That's fine. But go back and read the Bible verses above, and tell me that's not good practical advice about how to live. Tell me those are bad ideas. I wouldn't have known it if I hadn't studied the Bible. I would not have had it confirmed, if I hadn't had a little Bible education. So right now I want to give a little shout out to the friends who made this happy moment possible - thank you for studying with me. I am still getting it, but I am getting it.
I have to look at my experiences - for my own good - with, bizarrely, love and forgiveness. Or no good is ever going to come out of it, it's just going to be evil and more evil. So I am now actively in the process of forgiveness. I am going to be a super-hero and look at it with love. I am going to figure out a way to make what happened to me a shining light in this world. I will overcome the evil, and I will make some good out of it. Maybe the only good that will come out of it will reside solely within myself. The desire to be peaceful, the desire to feel joy and happiness, the lessons of overcoming adversity and hardship - these may be the only good things that come out of it. But I do have a light. I do. I can write. I can share. Maybe someone, someday, is going to read this blog and find their own light, their own forgiveness, their own little tiny thread, a piece, a straw, a tiny bit of a ray of light that helps them to figure it out for themselves.
That's my wish, and that's a little bit of good right there.
Of course, that's not the whole story, and this is not where I am going to end it. I'm going to think about all this very carefully and try to advance it. There are a lot of things I mentioned in the first part of this post that certainly could use a good airing-out. There are many things I am not explaining here. Growing up in a house where I was treated as a second-class citizen, that was pretty interesting! That was massively wrong! That was pretty unbelievable! To feel unimportant because I was a girl, that was really demeaning and got me off on the wrong foot in life!
To live with a ghost; to live as a child of a child of alcoholism - that was certainly a formative and very interesting experience! That was a real mind-blower! That really illustrated a lot for me! To have something, someone haunt you forever and ever! Somebody I never even knew? That dictated my life? Explain that! I will!
To be, now, a person with no family...none that will talk to me...well, that, my friend, is a real interesting kettle of fucked up fish, and if I went a little nuts here, if I'm losing my mind by blogging about it to the entire world, are you going to blame me?
I have a story to tell and I will tell it. I am not sure this blog is a place to do so. I realize now I've got to write, think, BE in a position of love and forgiveness when I do choose to write about these things. At this point, there has been a conception of how I can do this and not destroy myself. I think, honestly, I should fictionalize these experiences and use them in what will be, ultimately, an uplifting way. This way I can be true to myself and not take down so many people with me.
Are people going to be hurt by my words? Well, yeah, if they know about it. I'm not going to tell them, and don't you either. People have already questioned me about why this has to be public. Why would you ever want to put out so much about yourself? Why would you do that? Because I have a light. Because I have a right! And also because I have had to live with the cumulative effects of over 50 years of secrets. Not a fair burden. Not fair to a child, not fair to an adult. Other people's damned secrets have been made mine for some time, and I have had to live under that burden for the first 39 years of my life.
I utterly repudiate that burden. I absolutely reject it in my life. I can no longer bear it. Some people will say these are not my secrets to tell. To some degree, they're going to be right. But time is on my side. It's my turn to tell my story. I'm sincerely sick and tired of this burden that I never asked for, that I had nothing to do with, that I've had to tote around with me for the first half of my one and only life. I'm dropping it! I'm putting it down.
It just so happens, I'm putting it down on paper. (So to speak).
This is really not going to be terribly helpful in advancing communications with my family, but oh well. Things are pretty bad already. To be fair, I don't believe they realized that their secrets, and their behavior, marked me so terribly in life. My writings are not an attack on them. No vengeance. In fact, I love them. I'm working on loving them some more, in my own way, and preferably at arm's length. They would never, I believe, understand this project. But unless somebody drops a major dime, they'll never know. And maybe they should and maybe they shouldn't. I believe in personal growth, learning through your experiences, letting light and knowledge shine on in. But they don't. If they do, certainly that has not been shared with me, and it should have been.
I can't make their decisions for them. I can't tell anyone how to live. I'm not qualified to do so! I have to be responsible for myself and myself alone. Bad things happened to me, and hurt me, and created a great wellspring of grief and sadness and loneliness. The wellspring exists. I'm going to acknowledge it. I'm going to share it. I'm going to try to create something that is a GOOD in this life, something that others will be able to refer to and hopefully learn from. That is my way of overcoming the evil with the good. And I will keep on doing it. And I'm going to try very, very hard to do it from a place of love and forgiveness.
Keep on.
Keep on.
Keep!
- My father is an uncommunicative man who has evinced very little interest in me, ever.
- My mother is bizarrely trapped in a mess of co-dependent relationships that do not do her, or anyone else, any good.
- Another in my household is a victim of this, and also is a user, and is utterly unable to take responsibility for himself.
- I do not speak with any of them.
- I felt ignored and unloved many times, and sometimes was physically abused as a child.
- I grew up in an alcoholic household, although the alcoholic in question was dead.
- I grew up in sexist household.
- I have suffered extreme depression in my life.
- I have had little emotional support.
- Every day, a large or small part of me struggles with this.
These are the things that I have been trying to write about, and indeed have written about, although that particular entry has not been published and will not be published in it's current form. I got a lot of the pain out of me (again), and I'm sorrier than you will ever know to realize that the pain and angst and yes, indeed, anger, still reside in my mind. I had achieved a very real kind of peace in my life, peace and acceptance, but returning to those dim dead days is making me an anxious, nervous person (again) and a very sad one. During the last two weeks, I was lost in my childhood experiences, and I was just making myself sick with it. Remembering. Remembering how things made me feel. And becoming angry. Becoming sick with anger. And yet I want to revisit it. I hate - hate! - to be one of those people who just dismiss their formative experiences out of hand. No, I want to understand it. I want to understand why. You can't understand something if you cannot even articulate it.
And I'm getting there. I did articulate, to myself, a great deal. And I feel that was helpful. And I still want to write about it. I want to make something out of those experiences that are burned into my soul. But I'm learning (again) a larger lesson here:
17 Return evil for evil to no one. Provide fine things in the sight of all men. 18 If possible, as far as it depends upon YOU, be peaceable with all men. 19 Do not avenge yourselves, beloved, but yield place to the wrath; for it is written: “Vengeance is mine; I will repay, says Jehovah.” 20 But, “if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for by doing this you will heap fiery coals upon his head.” 21 Do not let yourself be conquered by the evil, but keep conquering the evil with the good.
- Romans 12: 17-21
Now please don't get me wrong. I am not a Bible thumper. I am not involved with organized religion of any kind at this time. This is not a blog about religion. This is not a blog about the Bible. This blog is for me to say whatever I want to say, and share whatever I want to share. This blog is to get me back into the writing habit, and if there is emotional growth, if there is spiritual growth, then it's all to the good. I believe the Bible can be a very useful tool and can certainly guide you through life, a difficult, trying process. And if some of you want to pick up your Bible and look around those verses, please do so, because in that chapter are some wonderful passages with some very life-affirming and useful and practical ideas.
Like I said, I was making myself sick trying to write about my experiences, trying to articulate them to myself and to you. I realized that I was indulging in anger. I do have a lot of anger. I do believe a lot of it is entirely human and justifiable. But you can't live like that! I knew that, I knew it. I learned it once in life, let the bad things go, things got good for me. If I keep returning to that very negative experience, without enlightenment, without a view to the greater good, then I will succumb once again to anger, hate, hurt, sickness, and sadness.
The key phrase in the verses above is (italics mine): Do not let yourself be conquered by the evil, but keep conquering the evil with the good.
Not: conquer the evil, be done with it, and go on your merry way. Keep conquering the evil.
Now do I feel evil was done to me? Well, yeah. When someone important in your life has no self-control, when they have no fruitage of the spirit, when violence is enacted against a person, when they brutally hit you, you better believe it's evil. I can't call it a kiss, I can't call it love, I can't call it a fucking Valentine. When a child is made to feel humiliated and helpless and useless and unwanted and unloved - this is not discipline, this is not a teaching experience, this is abuse, and it is evil. And wrong! And it hurts! It trickles down into your life, into your years, into your actions and reactions, and it forms you, and it affects you terribly and there are steep prices to pay.
So yes, I want to write about it. I want to gain understanding from it. I am going to be still living with it when I am an old lady. It happened to me, and I am important. If I want to try to learn from it, why can't I? Understanding is a tall order, but it's coming. Nobody in my immediate family is going to help me understand it, no one is going to speak, so I have to sit here and have this conversation with myself, and with you. I have to do this all by myself. I have been rebuffed at every turn when I express interest in the past, or want to know any of my family's history. A few people have given me very important pieces that do, in fact, explain a great deal. Too little. But not too late, not too late for me. I can still live through this. I can still make myself a better person. I can still achieve a reasonable peace, a reasonable understanding. And maybe then, I won't feel like writing about it any more. But that has not happened yet.
What I realized was, I was going about it all in the wrong way. Keep conquering the evil. If I indulge in my anger, if I allow myself to feel just a little too deeply about it, I am just steeping myself in rage and horror and hell. And I don't deserve that. I deserve a LOT of peace and happiness and lightness and laughter and love. I had to overcome these negative feelings and experiences. I had to overcome major, clinical depression. I had to learn to find a way to go on, when there was absolutely nobody able and/or willing to help me. And I did it! I did it! Now is not the time to go back and start wrapping myself in negativity, not the time to be my own avenging angel, that's simply not my job. My job is to be peaceable with all men. My job is to yield place to the wrath. My job is to keep overcoming the evil. Because the evil is still there, and it still hurts me. It doesn't go away entirely, not ever. Well. Maybe some day it will. Ask me at the end of my life, and I will let you know.
When you give in to this particular knowledge, when you try to overcome the evil with good, there is a deep relief and peace in it. I had a nice long talk today with Jehovah, and the answers came to me. Now some of you will say, you had a meditative moment with yourself, and you figured it out. You are free to think that. That's fine. But go back and read the Bible verses above, and tell me that's not good practical advice about how to live. Tell me those are bad ideas. I wouldn't have known it if I hadn't studied the Bible. I would not have had it confirmed, if I hadn't had a little Bible education. So right now I want to give a little shout out to the friends who made this happy moment possible - thank you for studying with me. I am still getting it, but I am getting it.
I have to look at my experiences - for my own good - with, bizarrely, love and forgiveness. Or no good is ever going to come out of it, it's just going to be evil and more evil. So I am now actively in the process of forgiveness. I am going to be a super-hero and look at it with love. I am going to figure out a way to make what happened to me a shining light in this world. I will overcome the evil, and I will make some good out of it. Maybe the only good that will come out of it will reside solely within myself. The desire to be peaceful, the desire to feel joy and happiness, the lessons of overcoming adversity and hardship - these may be the only good things that come out of it. But I do have a light. I do. I can write. I can share. Maybe someone, someday, is going to read this blog and find their own light, their own forgiveness, their own little tiny thread, a piece, a straw, a tiny bit of a ray of light that helps them to figure it out for themselves.
That's my wish, and that's a little bit of good right there.
Of course, that's not the whole story, and this is not where I am going to end it. I'm going to think about all this very carefully and try to advance it. There are a lot of things I mentioned in the first part of this post that certainly could use a good airing-out. There are many things I am not explaining here. Growing up in a house where I was treated as a second-class citizen, that was pretty interesting! That was massively wrong! That was pretty unbelievable! To feel unimportant because I was a girl, that was really demeaning and got me off on the wrong foot in life!
To live with a ghost; to live as a child of a child of alcoholism - that was certainly a formative and very interesting experience! That was a real mind-blower! That really illustrated a lot for me! To have something, someone haunt you forever and ever! Somebody I never even knew? That dictated my life? Explain that! I will!
To be, now, a person with no family...none that will talk to me...well, that, my friend, is a real interesting kettle of fucked up fish, and if I went a little nuts here, if I'm losing my mind by blogging about it to the entire world, are you going to blame me?
I have a story to tell and I will tell it. I am not sure this blog is a place to do so. I realize now I've got to write, think, BE in a position of love and forgiveness when I do choose to write about these things. At this point, there has been a conception of how I can do this and not destroy myself. I think, honestly, I should fictionalize these experiences and use them in what will be, ultimately, an uplifting way. This way I can be true to myself and not take down so many people with me.
Are people going to be hurt by my words? Well, yeah, if they know about it. I'm not going to tell them, and don't you either. People have already questioned me about why this has to be public. Why would you ever want to put out so much about yourself? Why would you do that? Because I have a light. Because I have a right! And also because I have had to live with the cumulative effects of over 50 years of secrets. Not a fair burden. Not fair to a child, not fair to an adult. Other people's damned secrets have been made mine for some time, and I have had to live under that burden for the first 39 years of my life.
I utterly repudiate that burden. I absolutely reject it in my life. I can no longer bear it. Some people will say these are not my secrets to tell. To some degree, they're going to be right. But time is on my side. It's my turn to tell my story. I'm sincerely sick and tired of this burden that I never asked for, that I had nothing to do with, that I've had to tote around with me for the first half of my one and only life. I'm dropping it! I'm putting it down.
It just so happens, I'm putting it down on paper. (So to speak).
This is really not going to be terribly helpful in advancing communications with my family, but oh well. Things are pretty bad already. To be fair, I don't believe they realized that their secrets, and their behavior, marked me so terribly in life. My writings are not an attack on them. No vengeance. In fact, I love them. I'm working on loving them some more, in my own way, and preferably at arm's length. They would never, I believe, understand this project. But unless somebody drops a major dime, they'll never know. And maybe they should and maybe they shouldn't. I believe in personal growth, learning through your experiences, letting light and knowledge shine on in. But they don't. If they do, certainly that has not been shared with me, and it should have been.
I can't make their decisions for them. I can't tell anyone how to live. I'm not qualified to do so! I have to be responsible for myself and myself alone. Bad things happened to me, and hurt me, and created a great wellspring of grief and sadness and loneliness. The wellspring exists. I'm going to acknowledge it. I'm going to share it. I'm going to try to create something that is a GOOD in this life, something that others will be able to refer to and hopefully learn from. That is my way of overcoming the evil with the good. And I will keep on doing it. And I'm going to try very, very hard to do it from a place of love and forgiveness.
Keep on.
Keep on.
Keep!
Friday, November 18, 2011
Hesitation
So I've been thinking very deeply and hard about what I want to write next. I want to begin to try to explain some very black, deep, dark shit in my life that has bothered me for years, and continues to bother me. In the course of simply thinking about where I should begin, I think I became a little depressed this week. Not so much sad, but physical exhaustion just paralyzed me, when there is no real reason to be physically exhausted, or paralyzed.
In terms of the subject, for my own health, I think it's a little better for me to be angry...and I'm no longer angry. Anger energizes, galvanizes. Acceptance? Well, I am finding it tiring. Maybe it would be better to not put myself through this. I mean, there is no real reason to relive terrible, hurtful things...is there? If it would be therapeutic, great. But if it's going to put me in a bad mental place, what's the point? For purity, for the sake of writing, just showing I can do this? For setting records straight? Where? In my own mind? I'm pretty set in my own mind, now, about everything that happened, and as for those who might not come out looking so good in my story, well - the chances of them reading this are extremely remote.
I'm just not sure if I want to do this. Maybe a little at a time would be best. Not to be published until I get a real handle on it.
I think I will think about it. I have had much less joy in my life this week than I typically do. And that's a real problem, because I like to be happy and have worked at it for awhile! Then again, as I have described above, these things "continue to bother me." And if that is true, well, a little sunlight never hurt anything.
But as for today, I will choose to be joyful. It's Friday. I have no pressing work. I feel much better. Home life is very, very good. It's a beautiful day, and I will shortly be out in it. I will leap about with great enthusiasm (if not skill) on the tennis court, I will enjoy the time with my husband, I will think happy thoughts, I will look forward to some interesting, good things we have coming up in our lives, and for today, I will just simply be happy. The future is exciting, to me. The past is a deep dark hole of shit. Nothing new happening there!
But I will tell you this. It's my deep dark hole of shit. I lived through it. I was there. I have every right in the world to say and feel and write whatever it is I am going to say and feel and write, and if anybody does not like it, they can hit the back button on their browser and ignore it, among other, less charitable things I am thinking now but will not share with you out of decency and the fact I don't want too much blue language in my blog.
We'll talk again soon. That is, this conversation with myself - and you - will continue.
In terms of the subject, for my own health, I think it's a little better for me to be angry...and I'm no longer angry. Anger energizes, galvanizes. Acceptance? Well, I am finding it tiring. Maybe it would be better to not put myself through this. I mean, there is no real reason to relive terrible, hurtful things...is there? If it would be therapeutic, great. But if it's going to put me in a bad mental place, what's the point? For purity, for the sake of writing, just showing I can do this? For setting records straight? Where? In my own mind? I'm pretty set in my own mind, now, about everything that happened, and as for those who might not come out looking so good in my story, well - the chances of them reading this are extremely remote.
I'm just not sure if I want to do this. Maybe a little at a time would be best. Not to be published until I get a real handle on it.
I think I will think about it. I have had much less joy in my life this week than I typically do. And that's a real problem, because I like to be happy and have worked at it for awhile! Then again, as I have described above, these things "continue to bother me." And if that is true, well, a little sunlight never hurt anything.
But as for today, I will choose to be joyful. It's Friday. I have no pressing work. I feel much better. Home life is very, very good. It's a beautiful day, and I will shortly be out in it. I will leap about with great enthusiasm (if not skill) on the tennis court, I will enjoy the time with my husband, I will think happy thoughts, I will look forward to some interesting, good things we have coming up in our lives, and for today, I will just simply be happy. The future is exciting, to me. The past is a deep dark hole of shit. Nothing new happening there!
But I will tell you this. It's my deep dark hole of shit. I lived through it. I was there. I have every right in the world to say and feel and write whatever it is I am going to say and feel and write, and if anybody does not like it, they can hit the back button on their browser and ignore it, among other, less charitable things I am thinking now but will not share with you out of decency and the fact I don't want too much blue language in my blog.
We'll talk again soon. That is, this conversation with myself - and you - will continue.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Shelley on Facebook
I know I have promised you all a heartbreaking work of staggering genius (just had to steal that) but before the knives come out and the cutting begins, before the great outlet of soul and blood of my heart, I wanted to talk about something that I like, I love, but boy does is bother me sometimes. Facebook.
I have to manage it; I have to control it. I have to not let it affect me too much. I know I am not the only one who finds it challenging to keep a healthy sense of self-esteem while reading it. Oftentimes I feel that others, through no fault of their own, are pointing up the fact that I don't have very many friends, while of course they have friends in the thousands, and those thousands of friends are always happy to comment on their posts; more often than not, in clique-ish language that applies only to the special people. I feel it's like being in a group, in a gang, in a crowd. You're either in it or on the periphery of it, and too often I feel I'm in periphery of it.
Being not included is a hallmark of my life. When I was a a girl, I dreamed my neighbors were throwing a pool party, and I was not invited. This fear of not being included has haunted me all my life up to I suppose this very day, or else why bother commenting about it? So although I really DO enjoy keeping up with all my lovely Facebook friends and family, who I really do love and value, sometimes I get insecure while reading all these various posts. And when I post myself.
Like when I post something and NO ONE comments. This makes me feel horrible. I have no friends, no one cares, poor me. Of course I go back in my head and correct these terrible thoughts with reasonable ones: your friends do care, but they all have a life. Most have children, jobs, families. Of course they do; they can't quit posting about every single thing that happens to them. Now that I do not do. I don't kid myself that people are that interested in my mundane day-to-day life. I comment when I am supremely annoyed or genuinely bubbling over with joy (hey, it happens!) It's interesting to me that people are far more interested in my positive thoughts than my sometime (legitimate) gripes about this or that or the other. Heck, if you want to read my gripes, that's what yelp is all about! God help you if the food came to my table cold. But I digress. People want to be happy and they want to read happy things.
And boy is there no lack of happy things on Facebook. A great deal of posts center on this fascinating and sometimes irritating business of checking in to a place. I feel the peer pressure to do so also, but I lack the phone technology to do it. Hey, I go places too! Now not only do I feel uncomfortable about the fact people might not comment on my posts, I have phone envy to boot. I do appreciate the fact that there are some people out there sharing their lives in a whole sense. Certainly they post about their cares, their concerns, their passions, their feelings, and specific situations: lost a job, lost a family member, please help find my dog, please support me in this/that/the other endeavor, etc. I guess I prefer this whole-life type sharing more than I appreciate those who are trying to put up a Party All the Time kind of front...unless their life really is a merry-go-round of parties, clubbing, celebrations, eating out, cocktails, vacations, apparently with unlimited funds and no job to speak of.
And it's certainly not their fault if it makes me feel left out. I am in this weird position of having deliberately cultivated a quiet, peaceful life, with a very private persona. At one point in my life, it make absolute sense to go to ground, make things right with myself, and edit out as many extraneous people as I could. People hurt me. I could not bear it, not one more hurt or disappointment. I had to close them out and allow only those who were very nurturing in my life. Luckily, I did have at least 2 people who qualified for this role. And it worked. They gave to me. Thankfully, they saw something in me worth cultivating, worth loving. Eventually, I believed them. Eventually, I gave myself what others could not, and I healed. Slowly, I opened myself back up to life. But I realized...I do need people. I do want friends, I do want to be part of the conversation, the party. I do want to enjoy life to it's fullest, and that is very hard to do when you're closed off. Yes, it was necessary and right for me to do that at a certain time. But now that time has past; I'm strong again. I'm fit. I won't lie and say I'm not easily hurt. If I want to be honest, I have to tell you that I suppose I am. But it's only momentary, a blip. I have learned to healthfully put things in their proper place and move on.
So it's time for me to fly...I'm ready. But does Facebook really fit into it? Should it?
In one respect, yes, absolutely. Oh, it's given me far more joy than pain. I enjoy the daily contact I get from my sisters in law, for instance. I do love to hear about their goings-on. Yeah, I feel a little left out, but hey, they live in New York, I live in Florida, it's not as if they can invite me over. I love that feeling of staying in touch. That the possibly for an even better relationship remains open, especially when I am keeping up with their lives; I know what's going on (at least the good, wonderful part). Is there envy on my part? Well, yes, sure. But they have a far different lifestyle than I. Big families, children galore; they live close to each other in geography and spirit. My husband and I deliberately chose not to have our own children. We chose to live in Florida. We chose to have a business that makes it very difficult to travel during the holidays (hellish things, I'll write about them in another post). I can't be part of their daily lives. I suppose part of me will always wish that I could have enjoyed more familial contact. Unfortunately, one of the things that stick with me is this: families = hurt. Not them specifically. Families in general. (More to come on that later). But these great good ladies are not the only family I have on Facebook. In several instances, Facebook has facilitated a reunion of sorts for me and the more far-flung members of my family. People who remember me as a child. I don't know if anything pleases me more, hearing stories about me from my aunts. And my husband dearly loves these stories, takes them into his heart, and repeats them to me at times, to my great squirming blushing pleasure. We get so little of that, you see.
So onto the friends part. I do have a few. Sadly, horribly, most of them are scattered far and wide. Wow, it's nearly damned impossible to meet sympatico women who GET me. I guess I'm lucky to have the few I do. In this respect, Facebook is a must. In truth, these ladies do not post a whole lot; their lives are super-full. It's too bad because I would like to hear more from them. Hey, we could do that clique-y thing too! I guess they are ahead of me in that respect; their self-esteem naturally prevents them from such silliness. Still, I get the basic updates. I'm happy, I'm sick, I'm sad, I'm going to a show, I'm playing soccer, I'm Living My Life and here are some details. Do I want to hear about that stuff? Sure, why not? Can I reasonably be jealous of them? Well. I always want to be included, so therein lies the problem. But I feel only a touch of envy. What are they supposed to do, shutter themselves until I can join them? That is ridiculous. None of us have time to catch up on the phone. Facebook is better than nothing. It's a lifeline, and I will take it.
Which brings us to New Business and New Friends. Well! Great happy story to tell there, it's still unfolding, but I think I can file it under a success story. Not so very long ago, an old friend contacted me through Facebook; a girl I knew in high school. Arrangements were eventually made to have a lunch. As it turns out, we are well-met-again, I think. Over the course of several happy lunches, we have reconnected and shared the various and sundry details of our lives. I am amazed because we talk about simply everything: from the mundane to the sublime. It's so SO awesome for me, because I've never actually had an adult friend my own age. I love the fact that we set aside time for each other and for ourselves. Although our lives are different, we do share similar growing-up experiences, which provides for a rich foundation. Of course we talk about our daily lives: children, husbands, work. But we also discuss the things that make my mind and imagination soar. Art, literature, ideas, economics, personal philosophies.
She doesn't know this, but she is one of the reasons I am writing this blog. She is an artist; I want to be a writer. So now I will write. Maybe it won't be very good, or interesting, but I will put forth my best effort and create something out of my heart. She is a wonderful listener and, I feel, a nurturing person. Sent to me by the great good thing that is Facebook, so really I have Facebook to thank. Is it possible that she would have gotten in touch with me without Internet help? I really do not know, I can't imagine it. How are we supposed to find each other otherwise? Our last names have changed - it's well-nigh impossible. Facebook makes it easy.
So what's the problem? Facebook is great, right? Should everyone do it?
Of course, there are those negatives aspects to Facebook. One thing that bothers me is friends that I've reconnected with, but they really don't know me or talk to me. Where to begin the conversation? I try, but sometimes receive no reply, or rather, get short shrift. Perhaps it harder for them to get to know me because I am naturally pretty quiet on Facebook. Maybe I am making a mistake in not posting the mundane day-to-day details? Give them something to work with? Or maybe- maybe they are not truly interested in me. Maybe they are only interested in aggrandizing themselves, and having a long list of Friends to further show off. What to do with these people? I guess not everybody is willing to reconnect truly with me, or perhaps it just not the right time in their lives. Maybe they are going to ground, like I had to do earlier in life. Maybe they are just not ready. Well, OK. I'll give those people the benefit of the doubt. I've shown an interest; the thread is there, all they have to do is pick it up. When they fail to do so, naturally I am disappointed. But I get over it quickly.
Then there are the flat-out negative or offensive people on Facebook. Don't even hesitate. Defriend them. If someone is posting disgusting pornographic details that you don't care to read about, if someone is publishing political diatribes you don't want to read, if someone is posting pictures of dead fetuses that are offensive you to - defriend! It's not a democracy. Not everyone can or should be part of your conversation. You have the right to defriend. I used to hesitate; no longer. Boil down the equation: do these people really know you, do they speak to you personally, are they adding something to your life, or are they making you uncomfortable? I do think people should be exposed to uncomfortable ideas. I'm just not sure that everyday exposure to it on Facebook is a good idea, necessarily. I think that if you would throw these people out of your living room, you probably should defriend them.
Of course, all of this is my opinion. You can run your Facebook any way you like; this is only my way, and I'm just sitting here exploring my own ideas and figuring it out for myself. If you want to run, essentially, a political forum in which you have many people expressing their ideas, in sometimes offensive and hurtful language and it pleases you, by all means do it. As for me, at this time, I want to use Facebook in a more positive and nurturing form.
I don't mean to say you should shut out anyone who says one little thing you dislike. You won't have very many friends, that's for sure. And you'll be ending the possibility that someone might make you think about something. That's no good. I'm talking about people who continually publish something that offends you. Or you could go the other way and defend yourself and your own ideas. Tell them what you think. Why are you offended? Do they know they are disgusting? Will they be offended back? If so, so what? I guess in that case, they will defriend you and they'll have beaten you to the punch. It all depends if you want to be confrontational or not; I personally do not, at this time. When I feel otherwise, I'll certainly let you know about it.
Another problem for me with Facebook is, it simply does not suit my wordiness. I'm bad at soundbites. The pithy comebacks don't go far enough; they don't express me fully, they hamper me, they constrain me. I much prefer this blog forum where I can kvetch, bitch, editorialize, and share to my heart's content.
In the end, I guess Facebook is a pretty darn good thing in my life, as long as I remember, it's not all that personal. I believe that at it's greatest, it can facilitate world movements; generate revolutions, provide an outlet to those in other countries who don't have this thing called the First Amendment. At it's worst, it's a high school clique (and don't forget how cruel, awful, and heartless those are). Sitting smack dab in the middle is it's possibility for good in our lives - our everyday lives, for people like me. I would suggest that we try to use Facebook to facilitate the real stuff in life - getting together in person, having fun, a real sharing, a real experience in which we reveal ourselves more fully, and ultimately, in a more fulfilling way, to others. Because as interesting and wonderful and useful as Facebook is, it can't replace what we really need in life; a friendly, smiling face, a willing ear, a shoulder to cry on, a bright wink, a warm hug. That is what we all need in order to reassure ourselves that yes, we truly do belong.
What do you think?
I have to manage it; I have to control it. I have to not let it affect me too much. I know I am not the only one who finds it challenging to keep a healthy sense of self-esteem while reading it. Oftentimes I feel that others, through no fault of their own, are pointing up the fact that I don't have very many friends, while of course they have friends in the thousands, and those thousands of friends are always happy to comment on their posts; more often than not, in clique-ish language that applies only to the special people. I feel it's like being in a group, in a gang, in a crowd. You're either in it or on the periphery of it, and too often I feel I'm in periphery of it.
Being not included is a hallmark of my life. When I was a a girl, I dreamed my neighbors were throwing a pool party, and I was not invited. This fear of not being included has haunted me all my life up to I suppose this very day, or else why bother commenting about it? So although I really DO enjoy keeping up with all my lovely Facebook friends and family, who I really do love and value, sometimes I get insecure while reading all these various posts. And when I post myself.
Like when I post something and NO ONE comments. This makes me feel horrible. I have no friends, no one cares, poor me. Of course I go back in my head and correct these terrible thoughts with reasonable ones: your friends do care, but they all have a life. Most have children, jobs, families. Of course they do; they can't quit posting about every single thing that happens to them. Now that I do not do. I don't kid myself that people are that interested in my mundane day-to-day life. I comment when I am supremely annoyed or genuinely bubbling over with joy (hey, it happens!) It's interesting to me that people are far more interested in my positive thoughts than my sometime (legitimate) gripes about this or that or the other. Heck, if you want to read my gripes, that's what yelp is all about! God help you if the food came to my table cold. But I digress. People want to be happy and they want to read happy things.
And boy is there no lack of happy things on Facebook. A great deal of posts center on this fascinating and sometimes irritating business of checking in to a place. I feel the peer pressure to do so also, but I lack the phone technology to do it. Hey, I go places too! Now not only do I feel uncomfortable about the fact people might not comment on my posts, I have phone envy to boot. I do appreciate the fact that there are some people out there sharing their lives in a whole sense. Certainly they post about their cares, their concerns, their passions, their feelings, and specific situations: lost a job, lost a family member, please help find my dog, please support me in this/that/the other endeavor, etc. I guess I prefer this whole-life type sharing more than I appreciate those who are trying to put up a Party All the Time kind of front...unless their life really is a merry-go-round of parties, clubbing, celebrations, eating out, cocktails, vacations, apparently with unlimited funds and no job to speak of.
And it's certainly not their fault if it makes me feel left out. I am in this weird position of having deliberately cultivated a quiet, peaceful life, with a very private persona. At one point in my life, it make absolute sense to go to ground, make things right with myself, and edit out as many extraneous people as I could. People hurt me. I could not bear it, not one more hurt or disappointment. I had to close them out and allow only those who were very nurturing in my life. Luckily, I did have at least 2 people who qualified for this role. And it worked. They gave to me. Thankfully, they saw something in me worth cultivating, worth loving. Eventually, I believed them. Eventually, I gave myself what others could not, and I healed. Slowly, I opened myself back up to life. But I realized...I do need people. I do want friends, I do want to be part of the conversation, the party. I do want to enjoy life to it's fullest, and that is very hard to do when you're closed off. Yes, it was necessary and right for me to do that at a certain time. But now that time has past; I'm strong again. I'm fit. I won't lie and say I'm not easily hurt. If I want to be honest, I have to tell you that I suppose I am. But it's only momentary, a blip. I have learned to healthfully put things in their proper place and move on.
So it's time for me to fly...I'm ready. But does Facebook really fit into it? Should it?
In one respect, yes, absolutely. Oh, it's given me far more joy than pain. I enjoy the daily contact I get from my sisters in law, for instance. I do love to hear about their goings-on. Yeah, I feel a little left out, but hey, they live in New York, I live in Florida, it's not as if they can invite me over. I love that feeling of staying in touch. That the possibly for an even better relationship remains open, especially when I am keeping up with their lives; I know what's going on (at least the good, wonderful part). Is there envy on my part? Well, yes, sure. But they have a far different lifestyle than I. Big families, children galore; they live close to each other in geography and spirit. My husband and I deliberately chose not to have our own children. We chose to live in Florida. We chose to have a business that makes it very difficult to travel during the holidays (hellish things, I'll write about them in another post). I can't be part of their daily lives. I suppose part of me will always wish that I could have enjoyed more familial contact. Unfortunately, one of the things that stick with me is this: families = hurt. Not them specifically. Families in general. (More to come on that later). But these great good ladies are not the only family I have on Facebook. In several instances, Facebook has facilitated a reunion of sorts for me and the more far-flung members of my family. People who remember me as a child. I don't know if anything pleases me more, hearing stories about me from my aunts. And my husband dearly loves these stories, takes them into his heart, and repeats them to me at times, to my great squirming blushing pleasure. We get so little of that, you see.
So onto the friends part. I do have a few. Sadly, horribly, most of them are scattered far and wide. Wow, it's nearly damned impossible to meet sympatico women who GET me. I guess I'm lucky to have the few I do. In this respect, Facebook is a must. In truth, these ladies do not post a whole lot; their lives are super-full. It's too bad because I would like to hear more from them. Hey, we could do that clique-y thing too! I guess they are ahead of me in that respect; their self-esteem naturally prevents them from such silliness. Still, I get the basic updates. I'm happy, I'm sick, I'm sad, I'm going to a show, I'm playing soccer, I'm Living My Life and here are some details. Do I want to hear about that stuff? Sure, why not? Can I reasonably be jealous of them? Well. I always want to be included, so therein lies the problem. But I feel only a touch of envy. What are they supposed to do, shutter themselves until I can join them? That is ridiculous. None of us have time to catch up on the phone. Facebook is better than nothing. It's a lifeline, and I will take it.
Which brings us to New Business and New Friends. Well! Great happy story to tell there, it's still unfolding, but I think I can file it under a success story. Not so very long ago, an old friend contacted me through Facebook; a girl I knew in high school. Arrangements were eventually made to have a lunch. As it turns out, we are well-met-again, I think. Over the course of several happy lunches, we have reconnected and shared the various and sundry details of our lives. I am amazed because we talk about simply everything: from the mundane to the sublime. It's so SO awesome for me, because I've never actually had an adult friend my own age. I love the fact that we set aside time for each other and for ourselves. Although our lives are different, we do share similar growing-up experiences, which provides for a rich foundation. Of course we talk about our daily lives: children, husbands, work. But we also discuss the things that make my mind and imagination soar. Art, literature, ideas, economics, personal philosophies.
She doesn't know this, but she is one of the reasons I am writing this blog. She is an artist; I want to be a writer. So now I will write. Maybe it won't be very good, or interesting, but I will put forth my best effort and create something out of my heart. She is a wonderful listener and, I feel, a nurturing person. Sent to me by the great good thing that is Facebook, so really I have Facebook to thank. Is it possible that she would have gotten in touch with me without Internet help? I really do not know, I can't imagine it. How are we supposed to find each other otherwise? Our last names have changed - it's well-nigh impossible. Facebook makes it easy.
So what's the problem? Facebook is great, right? Should everyone do it?
Of course, there are those negatives aspects to Facebook. One thing that bothers me is friends that I've reconnected with, but they really don't know me or talk to me. Where to begin the conversation? I try, but sometimes receive no reply, or rather, get short shrift. Perhaps it harder for them to get to know me because I am naturally pretty quiet on Facebook. Maybe I am making a mistake in not posting the mundane day-to-day details? Give them something to work with? Or maybe- maybe they are not truly interested in me. Maybe they are only interested in aggrandizing themselves, and having a long list of Friends to further show off. What to do with these people? I guess not everybody is willing to reconnect truly with me, or perhaps it just not the right time in their lives. Maybe they are going to ground, like I had to do earlier in life. Maybe they are just not ready. Well, OK. I'll give those people the benefit of the doubt. I've shown an interest; the thread is there, all they have to do is pick it up. When they fail to do so, naturally I am disappointed. But I get over it quickly.
Then there are the flat-out negative or offensive people on Facebook. Don't even hesitate. Defriend them. If someone is posting disgusting pornographic details that you don't care to read about, if someone is publishing political diatribes you don't want to read, if someone is posting pictures of dead fetuses that are offensive you to - defriend! It's not a democracy. Not everyone can or should be part of your conversation. You have the right to defriend. I used to hesitate; no longer. Boil down the equation: do these people really know you, do they speak to you personally, are they adding something to your life, or are they making you uncomfortable? I do think people should be exposed to uncomfortable ideas. I'm just not sure that everyday exposure to it on Facebook is a good idea, necessarily. I think that if you would throw these people out of your living room, you probably should defriend them.
Of course, all of this is my opinion. You can run your Facebook any way you like; this is only my way, and I'm just sitting here exploring my own ideas and figuring it out for myself. If you want to run, essentially, a political forum in which you have many people expressing their ideas, in sometimes offensive and hurtful language and it pleases you, by all means do it. As for me, at this time, I want to use Facebook in a more positive and nurturing form.
I don't mean to say you should shut out anyone who says one little thing you dislike. You won't have very many friends, that's for sure. And you'll be ending the possibility that someone might make you think about something. That's no good. I'm talking about people who continually publish something that offends you. Or you could go the other way and defend yourself and your own ideas. Tell them what you think. Why are you offended? Do they know they are disgusting? Will they be offended back? If so, so what? I guess in that case, they will defriend you and they'll have beaten you to the punch. It all depends if you want to be confrontational or not; I personally do not, at this time. When I feel otherwise, I'll certainly let you know about it.
Another problem for me with Facebook is, it simply does not suit my wordiness. I'm bad at soundbites. The pithy comebacks don't go far enough; they don't express me fully, they hamper me, they constrain me. I much prefer this blog forum where I can kvetch, bitch, editorialize, and share to my heart's content.
In the end, I guess Facebook is a pretty darn good thing in my life, as long as I remember, it's not all that personal. I believe that at it's greatest, it can facilitate world movements; generate revolutions, provide an outlet to those in other countries who don't have this thing called the First Amendment. At it's worst, it's a high school clique (and don't forget how cruel, awful, and heartless those are). Sitting smack dab in the middle is it's possibility for good in our lives - our everyday lives, for people like me. I would suggest that we try to use Facebook to facilitate the real stuff in life - getting together in person, having fun, a real sharing, a real experience in which we reveal ourselves more fully, and ultimately, in a more fulfilling way, to others. Because as interesting and wonderful and useful as Facebook is, it can't replace what we really need in life; a friendly, smiling face, a willing ear, a shoulder to cry on, a bright wink, a warm hug. That is what we all need in order to reassure ourselves that yes, we truly do belong.
What do you think?
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Baby Steps
I've always thought that writing is the purest form of expression; you open a book and a world is born. Books have always been my dearest friends, never critical, never harsh, always patiently waiting. The world didn't understand me, nor I it, but I could live through my books, improve myself through books, let some light in the sometime lonely life I led - all through books. As to writing, well, I have amused at least a dozen people through my emails, written what I thought were funny/interesting/useful reviews on Yelp, received accolades back in high school for my writing, won an award once in college, always considered myself a writer in my heart and yet...no writing. Why is that? Am I afraid? Desperately so, I must admit, it's such a revealing form of expression. As I sit here my heart is in my mouth...how strange, how fascinating! I am thinking of my favorite writers and things they have said: do not approach the naked page lightly (Stephen King) and of course this gem from Hemingway: All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed. So blood it will be, hey? Blood is evidently required; nobody leaves here alive. Is that the way of it, then?
Do I really want to sit here and bleed? Jeez Louise, haven't I done enough of that in life? Do I really want to take myself apart and put myself back to together and show all you people that I have something to say, a story to tell, a life, a wonderful life? Filled with pathos and despair and terror and love and joy and deep profound happiness just lately? Do I want to tell you, show you, how I am NOT ordinary? Do I have this to offer, really?
Well, Shelley, you are of this great lucky age, 39, soon to be 40 yes indeed, and I am glad of it. I do feel rather awkward writing about 40 just yet...I am not quite 40. But already I am proud of it. I'm proud primarily due to the vain and happy fact that I do not look my age. OK, that's good Shel, be honest. Show the faults and foibles. Show 'em you've got a sense of humor. OK good now go on. Besides not showing my age, and I know this is wrong and bad!!! but I feel wiser than most. I mean, I'm wise enough to know that I am not wise. That's the best way, be humble. I feel like I've tolerated a fair amount of loneliness and hell and muck and mud throughout what is hopefully the first half of my life. I've been rejected and dejected and hell, ejected from more than one place in the latter, more than one person in the former. And the funny thing about all that is, it's made me a better person who is much more self-reliant than, well, a lot of people. Yes, it hurts sometimes, life hurts, shit, that is how you know you are alive sometimes. I used to think that depression was part and parcel of my personality: news flash, it's not. It doesn't have to be for you, either. Ah, but it formed me! So OK, now I am figuring it out. If I want to write honestly and truly, I have to bleed. I got through it; I'm alive, back from the wars, and boy it was ugly. And I find myself well and alive and actually living a life I love, and here I am 40 now (almost) and if it's not time to write now, well, it will never be, and I must stop thinking of myself as a writer, let go of that creative part in my soul, and just BE. No crime in just being.
So do I really want to sit here and spatter my blood on this clean white page? Do I?
Gosh, I don't want to give you the impression that I know the Secret To Life Itself, or anything. I guess I'll have to write it, and you'll kindly read it (perhaps) and then you can judge for youself if anything I say is worth 2 cents to you or anybody else.
Daring myself.
Shel: you must be honest, you must hold nothing back, you are going to have to allow yourself to be uncomfortable and get over it. Didn't you use to tell yourself the unexamined life was not worth living? Didn't you use to think of yourself as a scholar, a poet, a student? Yes, I did. And something in me says do it now, because you'll never do it otherwise.
So let's end the suspense, shall we? I am entering into a contract with myself. I shall challenge myself to write a bit every day, to be honest, to be scrupulous with you and myself. You will see my heartsblood and I will die, but I'm going to give it a real shot. These things, these thoughts, these dreams that live in my heart ARE worthwhile, to me at least, and painful as it is, I will strive to share them with you. Some of you will recognize yourselves. Unfortunately, the guilty will have to be protected (I guess, dammit). I am going to do it, a striptease of the self, a veil at a time. I think tomorrow I will begin with the beginning; what do you think? Because if you are reading this, you are now my Very Favorite Person and Valued Reader; hopefully not Vile Critic. You are my secret friend, the one I will tell everything to.
Terribly exciting and terrifying journey, for me. For you, hopefully it's something to amuse yourself with over a cup of coffee, something to have a bit of a laugh over, just quite possibly I will make you think...we shall just see where and how it goes? Where it ends? Not even I know, for I am Currently Unfinished and someone will have to be around to pen the obituary for me and say, well, I'm glad that bitch is dead, or gee, wasn't she wonderful?
OK here it goes. See you soon.
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