You Matter To Me!

I wanted to write a little note to my readers today. I know you're out there, because I can see how many people read each post! And I love each and every one of you; it's rewarding to know I'm reaching somebody and as a result, I don't feel as insignificant. You encourage me to keep writing and some days, that's the most important thing I can do. This blog helps me to really examine myself and the world around me.

But I want to hear from you! If you have something to say about a particular post, a suggestion of a topic you want me to write about, or even a simple "Hello!", leave a comment or email me at ramblingsandwordvomit@hotmail.com. Tell me about yourself, send me stories or pictures; I may post them if I enjoy them. Your voice does matter and I would love to hear it!

Family Is More

What determines family? Is it blood? Marriage? Or is it simply a matter of love? I am related by blood to some that I cherish and others that I would not be proud to call family. Marriage has made certain people family--some whose company I enjoy and value, others who I would rather not be around for one reason or another. Then there are many friends whom I would gladly address as my brother or sister because of the bond we share.

Legally, two things define family: blood and marriage. To me, those are still superficial means of forming a group of people who love and support you unconditionally. You can be born into a "family" where no one supports, loves, or values you. But society will still call them your family. You can also be adopted into a family not related by blood, and be loved like no other. You can marry a person who thinks the world of you and wants to spend the rest of their life with you, yet not be accepted by the people he was born into. (This is not out of personal experience, just observation of the world around me.)

What I call my family is made up of many different people, some of whom I am not related to by blood or by marriage. Although my father's parents are both dead, I still have two sets of grandparents. I "adopted" a loving and caring older couple from my church as the other pair (or rather, they adopted me). And they have other "extraneous" children and grandchildren, because of their kind and wise nature. I never met my paternal grandparents, but my adopted ones are the definition of good grandparents. They have so influenced my life and are genuinely concerned about me. The impact of their care and love was so great that my husband and I had my adopted grandmother do our pre-marital counseling and officiate our wedding (luckily, she is licensed to do both).

I was born with four siblings, but I have so many more brothers and sisters than that. Blood family does bring a certain unique connection, but friends that you can call family to your heart are so precious. I value every one of them, and every one of them has made a special impact on my life. Schoolmates, co-workers, friends I've met through church, friends I met through other friends--I count each individual one as a positive addition to my life.

Everyone knows there are fathers who don't act like fathers, mothers who are the worst at mothering, brothers and sisters who could care less that you occupied the same uterus as they did at one time. So I don't confine my sense of family to blood or marriage. While I love my blood family, my personal family isn't restricted to just them. I think that gives me a better idea of what love is really all about.

Burden After Burden

Thanks, but no thanks. I don't want to do this anymore. It feels like a sort of cruel game. Just when I think things couldn't get any worse and are actually getting better, the other shoe drops. And we're left without a clue of what we're supposed to do.

Now, I wholly believe that God is a loving God and would never harm me or abandon me. But sometimes, I really want to quit. I want to yell at the sky, "This isn't any fun, God! I don't know if this is a joke on us or what, but I don't want to play anymore!" Some people think they have it bad--honey, no you don't. I'm not one to judge people's situations and say what they're going through isn't as bad as what we are, but things are not looking good over here. It really and truly sucks. And this is coming from a girl who hasn't had a whole lot of bad happen in her life. I don't know, maybe everyone is owed a certain amount of bad circumstances, with some people getting theirs scattered about through life and some happening all at once.

I want to emote, like normal people do when they get bad news. I want to cry like any worried wife should, I want to pout or throw a tantrum like a five year old, I want to be stoic and wise. But I don't have all the answers, and right now, I don't have any. All I can do is hold my husband and let him hold me while we are being strong for each other. That's the only way we'll get through this, and any other bad news we may get. Pulling away isn't going to do any good for anyone.

Those of you who know me understand that I hate feeling helpless. And other than when my husband was shot, I can't think of a time when I've felt more so. I basically have to sit on my hands until we know what's going to happen. I see people post to social networks about how happy they are and how great their lives are; I wish so much that could be me. It hasn't been me for a while, because absolutely nothing has gone right circumstantially.

This is the part where I have to let go of control, seeing as I have none anyway. I can't fix this; it's not within my power. But it is within God's, and He knows what's really going on, after all. Some people believe that bad things happen because it's punishment from God, but that does not apply here, true or untrue. I have stayed within His will, stayed in relationship with Him, following His leading. And I know I can say the same for my husband. I do believe some things happen to cause us to have more faith, and that's exactly what it's doing for me.

(I'm staying purposely vague to the whole situation, because it is on a need-to-know basis. Those who should know, do. And some things, we aren't even sure of yet. I may write about it someday, I may not. It does involve a list of medical issues, and the fact that the list keeps getting added to. If you are the praying type, we could sure use a little extra on our behalf about now.)

From the Night Owl

Up early for the second day in a row. Yesterday didn't have good vibes with it or something, because I just felt tired and grumpy, even though I couldn't really go back to sleep. I have a feeling I'll crash from my faithful  morning coffee and just hightail it back up to bed. I suppose it isn't early for some people. It wasn't early when I was working for the gym and it wasn't early when I was still taking classes. Only early compared to when I have been getting up (due the sleeping pills I was taking). Now that I'm on something a little more natural, I don't have to sleep it off before I'm ready to get out of bed.

But now I'm a little unsure of what to do with myself. Usually I'll clean for an hour or two before my husband gets home for lunch, and then I'll finish whatever I was doing or read for a little while. I did a lot of cleaning over the weekend, but there isn't a whole lot more to be done, excluding a few bigger projects. And I have a feeling, considering the way I clean, I'll get started and then I'll want to clean everything, which tends to leave me overwhelmed. Maybe I'll go back to bed and doze for a half hour, hopefully waking up knowing what I need to do.

On a completely random note, I was going to mention that I'm wearing nail polish on my fingernails for the first time in a while. I don't most of the time because of my bass-playing or the fact that it's pointless to put it on when I'm going to be cleaning and chipping it right back off. Since I already took a good chunk out of the cleaning and needed to feel a little pretty, I thought I'd go ahead and do it. If you know me well, you'd guess it would be a blue, green, or blackish color but oddly enough, I went for peach this time. I like to feel semi-feminine once in a while. And my husband likes it, so what the heck. It makes me more aware of my hands, consequently (fingers crossed!) less clumsy. At least I hope so ;)

Drug of the Ages

Honestly, I'm not pretentious enough to think I'm anything special. People have constantly told me that I'm special over the years--obviously a natural response to children and especially teens with lower self image. But I have a hard enough time trying to figure out what normal means. I'm always thinking to myself, is that what a normal person would say/think? How do people suddenly get these concrete "friends for life" relationships? Why doesn't doing this certain thing I've seen everyone else do have the same successful result for me? And so on.

I really don't care what people wish I would be, or the life they all tell me I'm supposed to have. Nothing in my world has panned out smoothly or with "happy" endings. They just seem to resign themselves to a corner until they are required to become a more pressing and obnoxious matter.  Pleasant little "moments" show up, but before I have a chance to cherish and relax in them, they vanish. I don't sail, I don't fly, I just pretty much make it by. Well-wishers tell me they want me to be happy, but I'm not sure if that's for me.

Not to say I don't have great things in my life: a loving and caring husband who is always there for me and without whom I wouldn't be able to face another day, the sweetest cat/child/dog to care for and love and keep me entertained, a somewhat dysfunctional but endearing family, and friends who care enough to check up on me once in a while. You might ask how I can be a Christian and not be happy. I used to be the girl who would give an arm and a leg to feel this thing that everyone called "happiness". But I know I have a God who accepts me, loves me, and forgives me when I screw up--if anything that gives me a content and satisfied feeling. He made me the way I am, so isn't there a chance that I wasn't wired to experience happiness? And I think I'm okay with that. I know some who aren't so friendly with me would be overjoyed to hear that I'm not happy, but it doesn't mean I'm unhappy.

Confusing, I know. I see happiness like a high. Some people live their entire lives just on a happy high and everyone loves them and wants to be around them, because they make people feel like the sun is always shining. And that is great for them. Awesome. But it isn't me. Sometimes, my smiles are fake. Sometimes, I can't stand people or life or any of it. It doesn't mean I don't have positive times. But cloud nine just isn't for me. I think "happiness" constitutes a sort of blindness. Some people are so busy being happy that they can't see other people's pain. I'm not the person that bounces around you with a goofy grin on my face saying, "It's ok! Be happy!" I'll sit next to you on the curb, not say that cheesy line--I know how you feel--put an arm around you, and tell you that the hurt doesn't last forever. Just because I'm not constantly happy, doesn't mean I don't wish it for others. I don't want them to feel pain like I do, or random sadness, or sleeplessness because they're unsure of where they fit into this world.

I've had a lot of names thrown at me, either things people perceive me as or want me to be. Thief. Rock star. Inattentive. Gold digger. Copycat.  Addict. Not good enough. Genius. Child-bride.  Rebel.  Hopeless. Weird. Adult. Beautiful. Stupid. Happy. Asthmatic. Naive. Awful. Fat. Gifted. Immature. Amazing.  Anorexic. Fun. Untalented. Sweet. Liar. Life-saver. Whore. Christ-like. Hateful. Inexperienced. Dreamer. Schemer. Stalker. Pure. Soulless. Best Friend. Depressed. Teacher. Wanna-be. Faithful.  I haven't made any of these up. So many labels, names, and put-downs, I've honestly lost track. Most hurt, and the rest feel like they should be about another person. It's ridiculous. How could people expect me to keep up with all that when all my energy is focused on being human? After seeing all that, could you possibly understand why I can't afford to care? A person could go mad.

I don't grant myself titles that I can't deserve or just don't desire to don. I simply accept who I am and that sometimes I don't make sense. I don't have to. If you think about it, I don't owe anyone a damn thing except to tell them that they aren't alone and love isn't impossible. And after I do that, I sit down and am thankful for those few people who don't try to change me, tell me who I'm supposed to be, or manipulate me. They are content with me arriving to the party as myself and no one else, and don't require any more of me. The conversations and moments I have shared with those few have been the most positive points in my life and are treasured dearly. That is the closest thing to happiness.

Better or Below

This is just a retyping of a haphazardly jotted note in my phone. I had some thoughts at one-thirty this morning that were too good not to write down. I apologize for the rough nature; my half-asleep thoughts aren’t as organized as my wide-awake thoughts (obviously). Even now, after being awake for an hour, I can’t seem to spell correctly! Anyway, without further ado, here are the jottings:

“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”—Eleanor Roosevelt. A wise saying from a wise woman. I’ve probably mentioned it before, but I’m mentioning it again, because it’s a good reminder. But that’s just it, isn’t it? We have a whole society, a way of life, based around human beings making other human beings feel inferior. And are they scolded for this misdeed? Rarely, and only in quiet, less trafficked outskirts of our culture (which unfortunately includes this blog, for now). No, instead they are rewarded with a higher pedestal from which to further idolize themselves. There is no humility, not anymore. Everyone wants to be famous, to be at the top, so they can yell, “Look at me, look at me!” to all the little people they trampled on their way up.

We live in a world where comparisons are an everyday occurrence. You can walk out your front door, lock eyes with a complete stranger, and immediately relive all the flaws that make you "inferior" to them. I myself struggle with comparisons every time I go out in public. Obviously, my self esteem needs a little building up, but I can’t even go to the grocery store without inwardly listing reasons why I am better or below everyone around me. This is one of the reasons I’m more of an introvert (another being that I can survive without being around other people, but that’s another story).

But this post isn’t about me.

There is an empire built on the low self-esteem of the masses. But there is no uprising against such a revolting practice—at best, quiet personal disagreement and at worst, total acceptance. Someone has got to be tired of this. It’s gotten to the point where even children are creating their own little kingdoms, parading the “superior” and degrading the “inferior”.  It doesn’t take much to encourage this behavior, simply turn on the television.  Shows that try to present a “normal” child still have to have something “ultra-special” about them; that’s the only reason that show was made. Show that tell kids that they have to be a rock star to be important, that if life doesn’t look like a Disney show, something is wrong with them and they don’t matter.

The people that create this world lavish in an imaginary (and in all practicality), irrational and unattainable standard of beauty, lording it over everyone who doesn’t meet their criteria. Are we so shallow that they are what we put our faith in, so blind that we would trust them with the definition of beauty? The bar has been set so unrealistically high that few surpass it. Those who don’t are snubbed and looked down upon.

This is not the world I want to bring children into. I want them to feel beautiful for who they are, not for who they are told to be. This is my view: in regards to the “it” factor, it’s not that you don’t have “it” at all; you just have something else that is interpreted differently. What may be “it” for me may not be “it” for you. And that’s why it’s so important to rock what you’ve got and not worry about having to rock what you don’t.