617: If you don’t know me by now

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That song by Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes is running through my head like a funeral dirge. In a way, it is a funeral dirge. The song says to the other lover, “You have grossly and fundamentally misunderstood me yet again, after all this time, and all my examples to the contrary.”

That song is a funeral dirge – a sad song sung at the death of something valued. The thing that died is trust and understanding.

I feel sad, because it is quite normal to feel sad when something that was valued dies. It is even more tragic when it died because it was murdered, with a deliberate choice to believe something of me……that is not me, by inclination or by example.

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After this happens, I have to choose. I have to choose between forgiving/understanding/explaining one more time, and resurrecting what died (and it feels like an un-dead zombie for quite a while after it is resurrected), or accepting that your judgment of me really is the way you think of me fundamentally down deep inside yourself, and let it remain dead, have the funeral, sing the song, and MOVE ON.

Yes, the hardest choice you will ever make is whether to stick with it and give it one MORE try, or whether to finally accept that this thing is dead, was so flawed at the foundation to start with that it cannot be reanimated into an awkward un-dead, but still mostly dead, rotting, worm and decay infested zombie, slowly and painfully warming up to resemble real life.

So, do  I turn the page and keep reading this stinker of a novel, or close the book, and decide whether to choose another, different book, or just swear off reading forever? I have been known to continue reading a stinker to the bitter end, and I have also closed a stinker and found another book. Not sure which choice was the better one – and I am darn sure that I am not looking forward to having to make either choice yet again.

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Time to choose, because not choosing is still a choice.

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588: Insisting on Unkindness

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Insisting on being, saying, doing unkindness is your choice.

It isn’t as though you are a perfect human, and therefore should be raised up as the shining example of behavior for all of humankind to emulate.

Far from it, the hatefulness you spew, from your own well of emptiness,

is a potent example of everything humankind needs, deserves, chooses to abhor.

Making a difference, inspiring change is not about pulling others down with whom you disagree,

joining with others as small-spirited as you yourself

to poke fun together at those who dare to take a stand for the hope of all.

We are not in middle school anymore. Act like it.

569: Bygones

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Used to be friends,

much beloved kitties,

men I thought were mates – who weren’t,

belongings I lost along the way (that I still randomly include in my dreams)

plans I had for my life,

hope for the future.

That smoking hot body I remember,

the fruit trees I planted everywhere I used to live (that someone else is harvesting now),

the books I read and passed on to other readers.

The children I raised, and set free.

The person I was.

Life.

556: Hope

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Every day, I hope.

I hope it will get better, that it won’t hurt so much.

I hope that I will be able to slow down and not be at everyone else’s beck and call.

I hope that I can say no. And mean it.

I hope that I can sleep until I want to get out of bed, instead of rolling out every morning before dawn because I have obligations to meet.

I hope that I make it through the next six weeks of no-money until I get paid again (a yearly problem, and January has thirty-one long, cold, and dark days).

I hope that Christmas will again just pass, without requiring from me efforts to be social that I just do not have the resources for.

I hope and I am chagrined that I still hope.

I hope that the house I currently am spending all my free time remodeling (paint smears in my hair and decorating both my forearms, random punctures, scratches, and broken nails) soon will become a respite and sanctuary – a place of peace and repose.

I hope that it will get better – that it won’t hurt quite so much.

I hope, even when it appears fruitless to hope.Hope-2-570x379

I hope.

 

 

534: I don’t know

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I don’t know.

I don’t know how it will turn out.

I don’t know if time will prove this is the right decision.

I don’t know whether I am worthy of the challenge. I don’t know if you are.

I don’t know how I will feel in five years.

I don’t know how the details will work out, if things will fall into place and make this possible.

I don’t know how others will react.

I don’t know if the results, the rewards, will prove worth the risk and effort it will take.

I don’t know how much time we will have.

What I do know is that I hope, and because of that hope, I commit to you.

For now, and for all the tomorrows I have, every day: my choice is you, and by extension, US.

THAT, I do know.

 

What I hope is good, right, worthy, love, in time, happiness, and YES, for all the time we both have left,

and for all the time to come, even after that.

 

(dedicated to Mr. and Mrs. CINOR (Constantly In Need Of Reassurance)

528: Hope

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We get today. Actually, we get less than today. We get right now, this moment, this breath. We only hope for the rest of today, and for tomorrow.

Yesterday can’t be changed. It can be forgiven. It can be atoned for. It can be reconciled, but it can’t be changed. Accept that fact or not, willing or unwilling, you cannot change it. So, right now, this moment, this breath: forgive. Atone for and reconcile if you are given tomorrow.

I deny myself so much when I resent, hold offense, keep anger fanned hot. If I ever hope to move safely into peace, health, life itself, this is something I must achieve. Giving up my right to resent. Giving up my right to be offended. Giving up my right to anger. Even when it hurt. Even then.

When I do not have the strength of mind and will to give it up on my own, I ask for help in giving it up, sincere in my desire to do it, but weak in my power to achieve it. And gently, or sometimes harshly, the help, the power, the strength, the courage, the willpower arrives to get the job done. To surrender. It takes great bravery to surrender, and move to what is better, rather than cling stubbornly to what is not.

But it’s worth it. Every time.  Even when it hurts.

526: Tomorrow

I’d be lying if I said I was totally confident about tomorrow. Yes, I know thinking positively has huge benefits for me and for my positive mental energy in dealing with the petty irritations of today. I do know that I do better if I focus on the good things, and strive to overlook, minimize, and disregard those things that might set me back, or sidetrack me from my primary goals. I do know that.

Still, that does not mean that I am a boundless, endless well of optimism and hope. Some days I struggle with my motivation and my focus. Some days I allow the negativity of others to impact my own attitude. Some days someone’s unkind comment or unfair evaluation of my work or my person bums me out, and brings my whole parade to a screeching halt. We all have those moments, those days. They suck. But, thank God, they do not last. No matter how much right now it seems that this will never, ever get better, it will get better.

In a few years, it might even become your favorite joke. It does get better, and when you can really laugh about it, you will know its power over you is truly broken.