Moderations...

A sure fire way to make any bad day better is by listening to music that is so sadly depressing that it is actually comical.  Take, for instance, 'Tom Dooley,' this song could make even the most suicidal want to parade around in a tutu.  

"When in doubt, don't;"  This is interesting.  It's a suggestion that's been resonating with me for quite a few months now.  I feel like I'm on some crusade against these "dark forces," but I keep coming back to this place where I think that those "dark forces" are all the turmoil that I cause myself by endeavoring to battle with myself in the first place.  

With that being said, I'm not sure if there is actually a "right" or "wrong" in this world.  I'm beginning to think that those ideas are the equivalent to our idea of time;  it's all relative to how we mean to truly experience this world.  We could live without the concept of time, and also the concept of right or wrong (COULD being the operative word.)  At some point in everyone's life the realization that right and wrong is simply subjective and that it works differently for each person becomes a truth.  When is it though that we abandon all the beliefs we've been herded into and really start adapting to our true selves?  

I'm sure there is no point to this post.  Well, there is.  But I'm tired and I should try for sleep.

Considerations.

At 26 you're supposed to be well equipped, well informed and well on your way to becoming the adult you were intended to be:  A great contribution to society.  

At the moment, and many moments before this one as well, I feel as though my potential has been lost somewhere.

It's not at all unlikely that a person with the sort of upbringings (yes, plural) that I've have to use the nature versus nurture excuse on current behavior, habits, etc.  However, for me, it's just not an excuse ANYMORE;  I used that excuse in my teens and very early twenties.  I am a mother now, and WAS a wife to someone, this should at the very least qualify me in a very loose sense as an adult.  Which then it is appropriate to assume that these are no longer valid excuses for me.  Ushering in ones adulthood means leaving (at least SOME) childish practices to the past.  So, while I may have some ingrained tendencies from some of my childhood traumas, and so forth, using them as excuses for poor decision making now is nothing short of irresponsible.  So I don't.  What I DO have a problem with is blaming the current circumstances for my behavior, which again, is not entirely wrong.  Our environments do shape us, to some great degree.

It is my responsibility now as a mother to make better informed decisions and truly endeavor to change unhealthy behavior.  Many of my struggles that I currently face lie in this assertion.  I struggle with having the knowledge but not quite knowing how to enforce it with myself and police my own actions.  I am unsure if this is a part of "growing up" or if it is simply a byproduct of incessantly giving in to my urge for instant gratification.  Who cares?  It's a problem.  

My greatest dream in life, as it is with many I suspect, is to have a happy, loving and healthy relationship.  The reasons behind having this dream aren't purely self-driven;  I want my son to know things I never knew.  I want my son to know how to function in a healthy relationship, to be able to discern what IS actually healthy and what is not, to have the ability to decide without the confines of disfunction dictating his behavior.  As I hope it is with all parents, or at least the greater majority, I want my son to have a better chance at life than I ever did. 

The sacrifices are great, though.

For some time, while I've been on this journey (only recently seeming to move more swiftly) I've had the distinct displeasure of watching myself have to decide between his future or his present.  I know for his future to be as amazing as I'd like for it to be I have to have a lot of quality "me time," as mothers tend to call it.  I used to think it was because "baby" was leaving me depleted and I just needed to recharge, I've come to realize that I am simply depleted and was long before he arrived.  I give to him the necessities, and more, but not what I know I am fully capable of.  However, it's imperative that the free time I do have is spent nurturing the soul that I lost somewhere.  Maybe it was in the 4th grade when I "sold my soul" to the devil during a physical education work out involving many long laps around the blacktop "track."  Who knows?  But I did lose it.  Maybe I did not lose not all of it, but that force that is suppose to guide someone has long since been indiscernible amongst the chaos in my mind.  I have made many, what I consider, virtually unforgivable mistakes in my lifetime (although I know they are forgiven through Him).  I have compromised what I believed were scruples to get my instant gratification and inevitably ended up in a place where I was left with nothing.  The time came for me to decide whether to sacrifice some straightaway happiness (which is essential to his growth) or possibly sacrifice the rest of his truly cognizant life and his ability to know happiness then.  I chose now.  Maybe I chose now for simple reasons such as his memory not being "all that great" with the hopes that he wouldn't remember any specific instances of not being particularly doted on as a mother might-should (southern colloquialism...I think it's cute.)  Or maybe I really believe that with overcoming the issues I have now I'll be better prepared to deal with whatever damage I do now later.  Or maybe both.  One can only hope.

It is my belief that one can only do what they can in any given moment, which is always their best.  Even if that "best" doesn't measure up to what most would do...it's still all one might truly know to do in that moment.  Here's hoping that my best counts later.

And as I hear the pulse of death approach I sigh.

I didn't know that this was the fruit of such laborious efforts.  Somehow, someWHERE, I acquired the belief that it all meant something and that life--yes this life--had just rewards for those who sacrificed, bled, and loved.  Somehow I was inclined to think that I, too, would be included in the gaze of favor and I would feel that warmth.

Instead I lie awake nightly whispering softly my hopes for eternal rest.

My questions cease.  My longing snuffed out like a candle flame.  My hopes are truly all that have been put into an everlasting slumber.  They have been lulled by carnage, war, and silence.  

Silence is...silence is the reaper. 

No mas despotricar...at least for today...

Stranger than fiction.  My life in general.  In a nutshell if you will.  I couldn't make this stuff up.  I could, however, make complete sentences.  

I am not sure which is stranger;  deciding to do a complete "overhaul" on my life, getting reacquainted with someone that I knew for half my life and never knew them, or getting a phone call that a friend's husband cut off three of his fingers.  Commensuration is my motto!  

So how many licks DOES it take to get to the centre of a Tootsie Pop?

All things being equal, I'm positive at this point that it takes 6 failed attempts, one emotional outburst (maybe two depending on your emotional investment), a trip to the emergency room, and an end result of yourself just buying the new stick-less versions that you immediate bite into.

Quitting smoking is much like this.  A recently acquired pamphlet helped explain to me that it takes 6 "honest" attempts (I am sure that with all other endeavors I have been lying to myself) before one might actually quit.  This is somewhat disheartening;  first because I have to admit that I am and have been a liar for 10 years, and secondly because, in all seriousness, having something that is only a few inches long dictate so much of my life for the past decade seems utterly ridiculous.  I'd rather have something SEVERAL inches long, with much more pleasure associated with it (and positive results), dictate my life.  

I am increasingly aware and fascinated by humans and their experiences.  I say it in this way because I am almost positive that I've yet to join the race as a whole.  Recently I've had a few "square peg/round hole" conversations with others, and while I think most feel that they are this in some ways,  I think by and large few people really feel left out of the "big secret," as I do.  Religiously or spiritually speaking, I am sure many feel this way.  If we can diverge life and spirituality (some do this religiously) I might suggest that this big secret is simply knowing how to function on a healthy level, but who discerns what is healthy?

I want answers.

I seem to get answers from people who chiefly believe they have them yet struggle with having a functional life themselves.  I seem to give answers also, so I know this idea to be true.  We share what we have learned, and what it is that we think we know or have figured out.  But the answers really are vague in the sense that "what works for one may not work for another."  Sure we are all like finger prints and so ornately different, but we all have common denominators;  the obvious being that we are all the same species.  Everyone can, essentially, be divided up into categories of human beings.  I myself (I always like using this because it flirts dangerously with grammatical mishaps) have a caste system that I like to employ when feeling self righteous, which seems to be often.  I am sure that there was supposed to be a paragraph break in here somewhere, however I am running off 2 cups of DECAF and 1 1/2 hours of sleep.  Ahem.  My caste system is biological, mostly.  It divides us into the ones who do and the ones who have others do for us, essentially.  It is more complicated than that, but for efficiency's sake I will refrain at the moment.  

Where can I contribute?  Certainly it's not through my self-serving blogs.  

I am sleep deprived.  I will attempt to nap now.  Nap is always a fun word when one is 26.

The Anatomy of Sorrow

Dolore                                                                                                          a lamentation in verso libero

No songs overheard 

nor rustling of life

Tones of colour whirled down and away

So long are the days tinged in this grey

I do not know the face of pith 

nor poise

And in this breath 

I sigh

For seasons passed and life so lost

For wisdom and true body

For the 99 left to recover just one

Amare è la vita

But the melody echos on 

and on and on and on

Heedless hearts

No feast served

nor recompense of being

If only I knew the bright visage of grace

or salvation

So long is my day 

alone in the colours of grey

And in this breath 

I weep

For reckless masses

For reckless me

For stray sheep

The heart of clemency beats on

and on and on and on

Foolish souls

Grazia è amore

Yet I feel no rest

no comfort

no cure