Is there ever a time when anything we do is enough, and if so, who’s to say when we’ve met all the perceived expectations? On that note, who might we add as the “standard setter”, is there someone out there that could tell us we are perfect just the way we are, and that we’ve successfully reached our max? Who could tell us those things, and whom would we believe? Is there anyone or anything that makes us feel worthy enough to receive love? I think the only person, place, or thing with that amount of power over us is within ourselves. The confusing part, and contradiction is that it requires some degree of letting go of the “self.” Some call it Gods love, others call it presence, and it has been called Tao, living Shalom, and enlightenment.
I understand this principle on a practical, and intellectual level, yet I find it so extraordinarily difficult to physically comprehend, emotionally speaking. I find myself in a variety of instances when I question my reactions, non-reaction, the decisions, and choices I make. I weigh them like a greedy little girl in a sugar coated candy shop. Why can’t I just be satisfied knowing that I did the best I could within the given circumstances, and let the pieces fall where they may? (I’m hiding something here that I’m afraid to talk about. I’m fearful of judgment and dismay-over exposure. I’m scared of my own feelings, maybe I’m the one judging myself.) I can’t talk about this anymore.
I’ve been in an igloo city, locked in and surrounded by people, and children all week. (How many hours a day socializing defines the fine line between the “happiest people on earth” and the “needing my alone time people?” Is it 9 or more hours? (The happiest people socialize more than 7 hours a day.) And is being around children considered socializing? (If so, I’d like to have a talk with “them”, whoever, “they” are.) Although I’m lapping up my current alone time, (My kids are asleep, and my girlfriend is at home.) I would still rather be enjoying my space than looking for comfort outside of myself. I admit it, I need people, I thrive on the interaction, and attention, but I also enjoy mentally basking in the memories as well. Aha, a thought just came to me; (imagine that) if the happiest people spend 7 or more hours a day socializing wouldn’t that also mean that 7 or more hours of the day are spent in the present? The time I take to reflect is a wrist flick of the lens to and fro past events, and future visions, thereby more alone time for me means less presence and more time for self-assessment, and controlled scheming; or the positive, writing.
This past week has tested my ability to stay focused on the now instead of wishing for sunnier days, but I’ve somewhat managed to embrace the stillness of the snow, and have tried to walk the line of acceptance. In addition, I’ve moved on from the (in retrospect) mistakes I’ve made this week and the negative inner subliminal turmoil from the fallout, to embracing my weaknesses (my human imperfections) and the moment. (For now, this moment, I shall enjoy.)
I couldn’t possibly do all this writing without alone time, and writing is a great outlet for the chattering, self-doubting voices in my head. I’m grateful to have people in my life to take “me” time away from “our” time, and I feel so lucky that I have 2 healthy children that exhaust and unnerve me to no end. I’m thankful for an understanding girlfriend who knows that I operate on scrutinized reflection, (but not too much) and for supporting me through the maze of my self-adjustments.
I’m hoping to swallow the daggers of shame and find a way to write about what troubled me this week. It probably won’t even sound like a big chill deal when I come out with it, but before I do, I need more time to forgive myself.