A Day in the Life

I left a few cliff-hangers on here a few days ago. One was about the general fuck-up-edness of things right now - lack of money, being sued for bills I've yet to pay, my folks' drama (cheating, lying, stealing, et al.), my plans to Move Da Eff On, et al. - and the other about things with my BGF (Best Guy Friend).

Thing is, I've come to this place in my life where I feel no need to be stressed about all this. Life is gonna happen whether or not I participate in it, whether or not my contributions to the actions around me are purely speculative and spectator in subject, whether or not I have panic attacks about the general shittyness of things. Sure, my day-to-day is fit for consumer consumption via Reality TV and/or telenovelas - but that shouldn't change the way I regard it.

All this time, I've been urgently willing a 180-turn. I've been plotting get-done schemes for all the drama I'm up against. I've been turning these problems into the defining parts of my personality. But I came to the conclusion that they're all things that I go through; that doesn't mean they have power over my person or personality. I decide what I'm about.

So I'm more proactive about things. I'm tackling the problems that are within my power: lack of satisfaction when it comes to my living arrangement, money issues, health concerns, the need to be more cultured, the desire to be more creative, et al. I'm running at least three miles every day at the track. I'm eating healthier (abstaining from meat and drinking a gallon of water every day). I'm applying to jobs while enjoying the hell out of my current work. I'm cleaning up my house and not feeling crappy if/when there's ANOTHER pile of laundry/dishes/chores to be done. And I'm becoming a little Susie Homemaker. My repertoire in recipes has increased exponentially. I'm sewing and designing clothes. I'm drawing and painting again.

Fuck all of the negativity. I've accepted that my family's problems are NOT my problems. By not allowing each member of my family to claim responsibility for their actions/inability to act, I was showing a lack of respect for their autonomy and decision-making skills; I was hindering their ability to live out their lives the way they deem fit. I was impressing my own notions of justice onto every situation.

But my mom isn't me and my dad isn't me and my brother sure as hell isn't me. They're gonna make their own decisions whether or not I agree with them, and the only thing I can do is offer advice when I can, be a shoulder for them to cry on, and allow them to pick themselves up every time they fall. Like a mother that breastfeeds well into their child's school years, I had to realize that I acted the way I did For Me, and not For Them. I needed to feel needed. I needed my self-worth and life observations validated by voicing them and attempting to have them followed as Law. I needed an excuse to stay a while longer in the comfort of the reality I've known for so long.

None of that is the case now.

I trust my instincts enough to walk into an awkward situation and know that I will arrive at its end unscathed. Nothing surprises me, but everything delights me. And Hope, that ever-elusive visage of tomorrow, has been internalized like a sacred amulet. The best I can do is the best I can do - and that simple realization is how my potential will not be wasted.