I am lost. I am hurt. I’m confused.
Things are changing and they are changing a lot. The changes aren’t good. The changes aren’t bad. They are unnecessary. I feel like they are unnecessary. I say that because I don’t want them to happen. I don’t want the changes to come.
Challenges. New and bigger things aren’t always welcome or expected. New and bigger things aren’t always better.
Who am I? I need to remember my words. I need to remember my identity.
I am strong. I am smart. I am cunning. I am devious. I am vicious. I am vindictive.
No. That’s not right. Let me try again.
I am strong. I am smart. I am loving. I am respectful. I am prideful. I am judgmental. I am haughty.
No, I’ll try again.
I am strong. I am smart. I am loving. I am respectful. I am calm. I am passive. I am timid. I am fearful.
No, I’ll try once more.
I am the chaos and the calm. I am the focused aggression. I am the carbon collected. I am forged in the fire under the iron banner. I am the unrelenting force, the unstoppable tide.
There’s truth in that, but also bravado.
I am adaptable. Things will pass.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing…. only I will remain.
“Afraid of change? Leave it here,” read the tip jar. Which was witty I though, and also felt a little sting. I wonder what people are going to say about this time frame. Will it have a “Great” name? Will it be knowing as the “Great Sloughing”? Or the “Great Shipwreck of 2015”? Or shall it be knowing by a fancy French interpretation of an Italian word, like “renaissance” or “baritone”.
No matter what comes, I need to remember who I am.
I am strong. I am smart. I am loving. I am respectful. I am calm. I more than these adjectives. I am a metaphor.
I am strength. I am intelligence. I am benevolence. I am the pine bending in the wind. I am granite. I am fire. I am death.
All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances…
I once was convinced that I was not a main character. I once was convinced that there was someone who’s so purpose for existing was to hated me. I learned that I am loved because I am inherently am worthy of being loved. I have learned that life is hard, but a metaphor doesn’t become a living being. I don’t need an enemy to blame for my short comings. I don’t need an enemy to blame for anything.
“You mock my pain.”
“Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.”
And there is truth there. I find identity in things I find identity in. It could be the clothes I pick out, it could be the music I listen to, it could be the choices that make during the day, or it could be as abstract as past hurt. I am saying that this thing is me, and when this thing is labeled as inappropriate, I transfer the label to myself.
“But I like my belongings. That’s why they belong to me.”
“Life is pain” might not be accurate. “Life is pain and joy” is closer. “Life is pain and joy and boredom and excitement and so on and so on with opposites and contrasts and contradictions and what naught” is even closer as it is wordy and hard to remember. Life just is.
“We’ll never survive.”
“Nonsense. You’re only saying that because no one ever has.”
I looked into these objects and saw myself. My yellow couch was picked not only cause it was the cleanest and it was the longest one in the Salvation Army, I picked it out because the color reminded me of my mother and a couch she once had. The couch is no longer just a piece of furniture that guests may interact with, it becomes a tribute to my mother and my upbringing. The “ugly and uncomfortable” it has been called gets translated to my mother and my upbringing.
I am expressed though my things. A creator creates, and I have created my living space as a reflection of me.
Yet it is still my charge to not take offence from the insults thrown upon me. I am vicious, I am vindictive, I am death but lashing out does not foster relationships. It’s selfish. I am strong. I am powerful. Feats of strength and destruction are only powerful if restrained. Is my rebellion because of injustice or because I am insulted?
I am prideful, I am haughty, I am judgmental; I have confidence, I have untold value, I have discernment.
..and always remember the last words of my grandfather, who said “A truck!”
When I first got behind the wheel of a car when I was learning how to drive, I was overwhelmed. There was so much to do, so much to watch, so much responsibility placed on my untested shoulders. The first time I drove on the freeway, I was in awe that I didn’t die. There were trucks and cars and motorcycles all around and I had to drive faster and better than I ever had to drive in my life or me, my dad, and the other people on the freeway were going to pay. How wide that net spread too. My extended family would be impacted – strangers’ extended families would be impacted.
Parting of ways is always hard. Bittersweet doesn’t seem the right term. Giddy-sad was more of the initial feeling, followed by an overwhelming sense of first time on the freeway.