I obsess.  Incessantly.

Sometimes I obsess about the most inane moments, situations, comments, or other sundry items.  See, i even made that really long sentence because I cannot use the word “things” in writing…. Cannot end a sentence with a preposition, nor will I patronize a store with incorrect spelling or grammar in their advertising.  I find it belittling to people, and if they want my money, they should treat me like I am an intelligent person making intelligent purchases.  Even if I want to spend my money on drivel, I still want to make an educated choice about said spree.

I find myself incarcerated by what I believe I must do and be for other people and yet consumed by a desire to bust out of the bonds of my making.  It is exhausting to say the least.  If I sense for a second that someone is angry or upset with me, I spend the rest of the time trying to figure out how to make amends, take the blame, or smooth over the situation.  This has not served me the best as there are simply some moments that cannot be amended.  There are also some circumstances that are not mine to own or to take the blame.  I am learning, slowly, Slllllowwwwlllly that there are times when I have extended the white flag and it is not received, that is not my fault; that there are items which others must own–if they chose.

I fixate on the future, believing that there is a destined something out there that I have to, have to, have to find.  That I will not rest until this something is spelled out in perfect and glittery letters and that I can follow a prescribed set of steps that will get me “there”–whatever that looks like.  That is also exhausting to the extreme because there will never be this utopian moment of “arrival”.  I will never reach the mecca of perfection and someday I will stop trying so hard to reach it.  Maybe.

I fret and stew about the  smallest infractions that I have committed, whether it be a missing comma in a piece of writing, or a forgotten date, my lack of providing all that I should to all I should.  I worry incessantly about what I could do and that it is never enough and will constantly be compared and found lacking in terms of what I should do.

I struggle to fit a set of standards and expectations that I have and that I believe others have for me, without having a clue as to how to attain them all at the same time.  I dream of a time when clouds part and sunshine streams in and I can breathe, in and out, and then in again–peacefully.  Ahhh, silly me, what am I thinking.  That is not what life is about….it is a set of struggles and obstacles and how one engages with them that is the real testament.  I try each day to make it better than the last one I lived.  Today I might have failed BIG time, I prolly did.  Maybe I did not….Maybe I semi-mastered one area and let another fall.

I heard the word surrender today.  That word has always presented barriers for me, maybe others too.  When I heard it and saw the scene in which it was used I was amazed.  This person asked the other to surrender with him in that moment.  To let go and let whatever was going to happen, happen.  What a concept.  He was in love and loving enough toward that other person to surrender the dreams they had together to help one another realize who they were independently.  He asked her to have enough faith in them to surrender.

I never have been good at that.  Growing up the middle child only girl in a talented and hard-working household meant that I had to fight for my place.  I fought hard to have a voice whether I needed to or not.  Later, being trained as a public speaker and a debater did not lessen my ability to surrender in any form.  It meant that I was better at it, could sniff out an opposition’s weakness and was going for the jugular in the most eloquent and snarky-smart fashion.  I did…I did it well.  Being in a family of incessant over-achievers meant that I did not let my guard down, did not let anyone know my fear, my weakness, or my desire to be average.  It became so that there was never a desire to be average, because that meant certain failure.  Standing out, making a name, and being more than an individual was as addictive as the Purple Passion my generation drank till they were stupid.  I had to have it…had to be outstanding, had to have the last word and it HAD to be better than any one else’s in the room…or else I would make myself pay.  I did–often.  I never surrendered, never gave up, never quit.

Now that funny word–surrender , lingers in the back of my mind.  Festering and picking at the vestiges of thought, calling me to examine what it looks like, inviting me to cloak myself in its embrace.  You see, I envision the talons of defeat and ridicule associated with that word.  Yet, there is something calming and oddly freeing about wrapping in its comfort.  Is there comfort there, is there freedom?  I admit, the thought of exploring that is a bit daring and daunting.

Surrender—hhhhhmmmm.  Whatever does that mean?  Anyone else willing to journey that with me?

Game on?????




1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Dottess
    Sep 16, 2012 @ 21:10:23

    Surrender. Peace. Serenity. So wonderful.


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