It's as if I can hear the voices saying: she just needs to get over herself, she's telling too much, she's revealing too much, she's blaming others, she should take responsibility for who she has become, everyone has dysfunctions in their lives, get over it, everyone has things to overcome, she's not so different from everyone else.
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| Blurry puzzle pieces are appropriate for what I'm trying to convey! |
And hey, you may be right if you are thinking some of these things: all of us do have some things to overcome, and we overcome them in different ways. One of the ways that I am choosing is by sharing myself with you, dear reader, and hoping that you will "judge tenderly of me." We Americans are possibly in the habit of too soon saying: "get over it." I remember recently being hurt by someone, and that same week as I took a walk in the park with a couple friends, they both said, "Well, you have to let it go and move on." And it had just happened!
Perhaps we are too much into the "instant gratification" culture, but some things take time. Some things may take 50 years! I believe that the more deeply something affected us, the more time it may take to process it. Or like me, you may have put off processing things because of time restraints--as in you may be busy raising your family, working your job, or living your life.
Also I do not believe that all families are dysfunctional. Some families give to each other a strong sense of being loved and accepted. So that the family members have a strong sense of self-worth. In my mind, that's the definition of a functional family. I have a couple friends who tell me that they felt loved in their families and that they got from those families positive self-esteem. So there are functional families on one end of the spectrum, and on the other end, extremely dysfunctional families and everything in between.
I am not blaming others for who I became, nor excusing myself, but rather trying to understand myself better and to figure out who or what affected me. I do take full responsibility for my choices in life, but again I am trying to understand why I made the decisions that I made. For better or for worse. A poem that I used to really like in my younger days is the one about being "the master of my fate, the captain of my soul." It's called "Invictus" by William Ernest Henley. I still like it, but I no longer believe it. I do not believe that we are entirely our masters nor captains of our fates; I do not buy the idea that we are entirely responsible for who we become.
"No man is an island, entire of himself," John Donne tells us. We are made up of many pieces and people and events and, of course, of our responses to them. Many things have created us--things in our environments and in our dispositions (or in our genetics). And as much as we are alike, we are also quite different. Things that may not have bothered one person might really affect another. We cannot give ourselves complete credit nor take complete responsibility for who we have become.
As for the possible "complaint" that I'm revealing too much in my memoirs. Actually, I think that's what memoirs are for, and for far too many decades, I hid too much in my life. I pretended things were okay. I was taught not to tell, not to talk about family matters, to keep the secrets. For example, I was supposed to keep the secret of my father being bipolar and all that that entailed, or else he might lose his job. And yes, even now, it may be foolish to put myself, my life out there, so to speak. It can be somewhat scary to tell of the mistakes that I have made in my life, or even to make mistakes as I write my memoirs here on my blog!
Finally, I have come to believe that the first years of our lives impact us for the rest of our lives. We must come to terms with them, with our families of origin, if we are to come to terms with ourselves. If we truly are on a quest to be our true selves and to surrender our false selves.
I have come to believe that another extremely impactful time in our lives is our teen years, our high school years, perhaps even beginning in junior high. Perhaps the time from the 7th grade through high school or even into college. I believe that those years "mark" us for the rest of our lives. In contrast to studies about the early years of one's life, I haven't read any studies about the teen years being as important as the early years, but I do know that our development again speeds up in those teen years. For example, just as there is a huge difference between a 2 and a 4 year old, there is a huge difference between a 15 and a 17 year old. It's just a conclusion that I have reached from experience and observation.
I am making a study of my life because I want to see who I am when others are not defining me. When I am not allowing the world to define me, who am I? I write my memoirs for myself, my progeny, and for you, my reader. My yoga teacher read a poem this morning in yoga class that really spoke to me:
"No man is an island, entire of himself," John Donne tells us. We are made up of many pieces and people and events and, of course, of our responses to them. Many things have created us--things in our environments and in our dispositions (or in our genetics). And as much as we are alike, we are also quite different. Things that may not have bothered one person might really affect another. We cannot give ourselves complete credit nor take complete responsibility for who we have become.
As for the possible "complaint" that I'm revealing too much in my memoirs. Actually, I think that's what memoirs are for, and for far too many decades, I hid too much in my life. I pretended things were okay. I was taught not to tell, not to talk about family matters, to keep the secrets. For example, I was supposed to keep the secret of my father being bipolar and all that that entailed, or else he might lose his job. And yes, even now, it may be foolish to put myself, my life out there, so to speak. It can be somewhat scary to tell of the mistakes that I have made in my life, or even to make mistakes as I write my memoirs here on my blog!
Finally, I have come to believe that the first years of our lives impact us for the rest of our lives. We must come to terms with them, with our families of origin, if we are to come to terms with ourselves. If we truly are on a quest to be our true selves and to surrender our false selves.
I have come to believe that another extremely impactful time in our lives is our teen years, our high school years, perhaps even beginning in junior high. Perhaps the time from the 7th grade through high school or even into college. I believe that those years "mark" us for the rest of our lives. In contrast to studies about the early years of one's life, I haven't read any studies about the teen years being as important as the early years, but I do know that our development again speeds up in those teen years. For example, just as there is a huge difference between a 2 and a 4 year old, there is a huge difference between a 15 and a 17 year old. It's just a conclusion that I have reached from experience and observation.
I am making a study of my life because I want to see who I am when others are not defining me. When I am not allowing the world to define me, who am I? I write my memoirs for myself, my progeny, and for you, my reader. My yoga teacher read a poem this morning in yoga class that really spoke to me:
You see, I want a lot.
Perhaps I want everything
the darkness that comes with every infinite fall
and the shivering blaze of every step up.
Perhaps I want everything
the darkness that comes with every infinite fall
and the shivering blaze of every step up.
So many live on and want nothing
And are raised to the rank of prince
By the slippery ease of their light judgments
And are raised to the rank of prince
By the slippery ease of their light judgments
But what you love to see are faces
that do work and feel thirst.
You love most of all those who need you
as they need a crowbar or a hoe.
You have not grown old, and it is not too late
To dive into your increasing depths
where life calmly gives out its own secret.
that do work and feel thirst.
You love most of all those who need you
as they need a crowbar or a hoe.
You have not grown old, and it is not too late
To dive into your increasing depths
where life calmly gives out its own secret.
—Rainer Maria Rilke, Das Stundenbuch
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