“If only I knew then what I know now.” I have such mixed feelings about this statement.
For the most part, I avoid saying things like this because hindsight is 20/20. In the majority of cases, I think most people would take the knowledge they have now and use it to positively influence their past if they thought it could lead to a preferable outcome. All the same, we can’t go back in time and alter anything, which renders the whole wishful nature of statements such as these useless…
… yet I still found myself thinking this way when I read over today’s post.
There is a certain degree of detachment for me when I read past writings such as the one below. Although I can vividly recall how I felt in those particular moments, it still feels slightly foreign. This is quite a peculiar position to be in because I never thought my day of freedom would come. I’d been imprisoned against my will by inexplicable sorrow for so long… my current state of being is supremely surreal in comparison.
When I was a small child growing up in Southern California I would ride in the backseat of my parents’ car.
Quite often we’d drive the 50-60 miles through the valley to visit my grandparents in the LA suburbs. All along the way I’d press my bored little nose up against my window with “Are we there yet?” on my mind, but pure vapor on my lips.
On and on we’d drive, whizzing past buildings, signs, cars and towns. It was all so dull to me then. I mean, if you’ve seen one scraggly palm tree, you’ve seen a dozen. Though I loved visiting my grandparents, I greatly disliked having to seemingly trek halfway across the galaxy to reach them. If it weren’t for the graffiti scribbled across the trains, I don’t know what I would have done.
“When it rains, it pours”… or so they say.
We’ve surely all heard this saying before. A perception that unpleasant situations often go from bad to worse is a popularly held belief. The crux of this is that our mere belief in something like this is often enough to bring corresponding events into our life that will support our position.
I’m sure you may have experienced this before— the domino effect. You get out of bed one day and stub your toe. Next, you iron your shirt for work, but accidentally scorch it. When you go to make breakfast for yourself you burn the toast.
It is not uncommon to focus our attention upon these frustrating occurrences and say, “Oh gosh, what else is going to go wrong today?” Before you know it, your entire day has gone to hell in a hand basket, further enforcing your belief that what can go wrong… will.
I’m afraid that I’ve gone and gotten myself into trouble again. Don’t bother sending for help. I fully accept where I’ve landed.
You see, he is the first thing on my mind when I wake up. I start praying for him before I can even get my eyes halfway open.
There used to be a time when I prayed first thing in the morning for the strength to chase down my dreams. I’d pray for the remaining members of my family—my cat too. World peace. More love. Less strife. Answers to questions I can’t answer. I still pray for these things, but I pray for him first. I always pray for him first.
I pray for him to find his rightful place and purpose in this world.
I pray that he lives with more gratitude and passion now than he ever did before.
I pray that he took my nervous ramblings to heart.
I pray that he doesn’t think that I am completely delusional.
My mother has been rifling through some of her prehistoric belongings lately.
Old birthday cards. Old Valentine’s Day cards. Old Mother’s Day cards. Old Christmas cards.
From overpriced Hallmark Signature greeting cards to good ole’ fashioned handmade masterpieces, that woman has somehow managed to keep every single thing I’ve ever given her since I first learned that it was socially unacceptable to ignore your parents on holidays. So, she’s been harboring a lot of junk for a really, really LONG time.
I have no idea how she’s managed it. Her closet is like an extension of the Smithsonian, only instead of it being full of valuable relics of the past, it is full of complete garbage that her only child gave her: Me. You are most welcome, Mom.
Well, today she ever so graciously passed along two bits of antiquity that I gave her back in 1994. She thought I would find them “funny”. I then decided to share it with you guys, but please do not judge what you are about to witness. It’s sincerely a crime against humanity, but what’s done is done.
As the morning sun would stretch and rise from its resting place just beyond the horizon, she would open her eyes and say to herself, “S—t. I’m still here.” And like clockwork, her tortured mind would take up its usual post. The damning inner dialogue swirled round and round, raging like a tropical storm. It was like this all day. It was like this everyday.
I can’t do this anymore. I’m so tired. Why didn’t I just die in my sleep without any fuss? Now I have to find a way to get through yet another day. Another day of constant pain. Another day of crippling loneliness. I could probably cope with it all if I could just take a break—I only need a break. But there’s never a break, is there? Not for me. Not for messed up people like me.
I want out.
Contrary to what would be a perfectly understandable and acceptable assumption, I have not fallen off the weight loss wagon. I can just imagine it now: Me, rolling down a hill of cupcakes and conveniently landing on the sofa…right next to a box of chocolates. (Sigh) If only.
No, my good friends, I have actually done my best not to ditch my weight loss goals for an entire carton of Haagen-Dazs coffee ice cream. Of course, this wasn’t the easiest task for me, what with moving and the flu and all. It’s not been what I’d exactly hoped, but I’m still here and still trying. Surely that counts for something, right?
Well, even if my efforts are actually complete crap, I’m here to update you guys on what I’ve been up to post-flu. I mean, let’s just be honest here…I didn’t do jack all in the span of time between my last update and two weeks ago. But don’t worry! I’m back in the game and I’m here to win. 🙂
Life can be such a dizzying enigma.
At the best of times, it can bestow us with beauty and jubilance of poetic proportions. Yet at the worst of times, life’s circumstances can administer lashes so severe that we’re left limping for years. When I was a child, I never could get a firm grasp on the concept of life’s fickle ways. From time to time I would hear people retort, “Life’s not fair”, but it wouldn’t be until much later that I would learn just how true that adage was.
Thinking back to early youth, I now realize just how fortunate I was. With the exception of a few minor hiccups and one major death, I enjoyed a fairly charmed childhood. No major illnesses, no serious injuries, no instances of bullying and no family turmoil. In comparison to many of my schoolmates, I was very lucky. My parents did a terrific job ensuring that I grew up in as peaceful an environment as possible, but perhaps that is just the trouble. Perhaps I was too sheltered, too ignorant of the possibilities that would await me later in life.
Before I get into the meat and potatoes of today’s post, I just want to say thank you.
Over the course of the last week or so, I have been fortunate enough to gain new followers. I have received a number of likes along with the most gracious comments, which couldn’t have been more of an encouragement. If you were one of the kind individuals who took the time out to follow my blog, or read, like and share my content—thank you so very much. Your feedback has motivated me to continue on this journey when I’ve genuinely wondered if I should give up, so words cannot express how valuable our small (but quickly growing) community means to me.
It has been a tremendous blessing to receive any attention for my work because in all honesty, I do not promote or share my content at all. I don’t utilize social media for this site and no one in my personal life knows this website even exists. On the two occasions that I mentioned this blog to complete strangers, it just didn’t feel like the right thing to do. Despite desperately wanting to showcase my writing and potentially open new doors for myself (professionally speaking), self-promotion is simply not my gig.
So I’m just sitting here having a snack—these lovely peaches, as you can probably guess.
Before this moment in time I was having trouble figuring out what my next post should be about. Sure, I had some ideas; I always have ideas. However, I wasn’t particularly inspired enough by them to actually sit down and share them yet. Everything in due season, as I always say. I’ll just file them away for later. I’m sure they’ll come in handy one day.
Anyway, back to my awesome pitted snack. The minute I took them out my mind started wandering. I inspected the fruit for undesirable flaws, washed them thoroughly and dried them with the greatest of care. The wheels were turning. Even as I sliced the peaches I could feel a memory start to emerge from the mist of my mind. Suddenly, I had it. I knew what I wanted to say. Here I am now…getting ready to say it.