25 01 2009

Over the weekend, I started reconnecting with some parts of my past and this has had interesting reprocussions. Trust has never come easily but tossing out the rubbish of the past is coming along nicely.

Trust isn’t something that comes naturally. Of course, it is somewhat funny to have this read on an Internet blog, but it is the truth. I’ve been accustomed to those who operate from “what’s in it for me” that I can see that long before I can accept that people actually want to know me for who I am vs. only what value I have for them. It’s a very new feeling, however I am not so blind as to realize that different people know me in different ways and are afforded different amounts of access.

I guess I have always thought there had to be more to life than the petty games people play on one another and prey upon those they feel to be weaker. The problem, of course, was that I couldn’t seem to extracate myself from the spiky game players because they seem to be everywhere.

I was talking with a friend of mine who has become, actually, a great deal closer than I would have anticipated. In one of our marathon conversations, I came up with a Solar System of Friends. There are those who have been around for a while and have their own orbits … there are others who are like comets and flow in and out; burning brightly then retreating maybe to come along again.

The head injury of 2K4 … or was it before then, I’ve forgotten … was a real turning point. I’d been surrounded by a lot of the past and had it constantly closing in on me. Chronic depression and thoughts of blindly playing in traffic were usually counterbalanced by some strange inner survival mechanism which has kept me wandering the planet even after a lot of the horrors I found for myself. It was interesting when my memory was temporarily suspended how people would attempt to re-write the history that I had with them to their betterment … or, in more interesting cases, attempt to state “Your memory is faulty … this is how it *really* happened …” when I knew better.

I know I’ve written about my memory before, but here we go again. I’ve had to have an encylopedic memory of events in an effort to keep from having things used against me by those whom should know better. It’s been that way for the majority of my life, and keeping those hurts open has just invited more. It’s sapped so much because of constantly being on guard. I know that having to have a detailed record of things open on the coffee table has just invited pain because that’s all I’ve truly known. I was taught I was only as good as a person as a resource I was for others. Nothing more and a whole lot less than the worth of those more ‘powerful’ than me around.

Power does not, however, come from bullying or forcing … but is something that stems quietly from within. Using and abusing others by force of personality creates a deficit and a bad habit. Life is very long and those deficits do add up.

I have learned, over the long course, that giving doesn’t mean sacrificing onesself and taking doesn’t mean non-acceptance. I’m surprised that people don’t get this, but so be it. I’ve made a boatload of mistakes, but on the whole I’m probably a lot happier because I’ve learned from them.

I love to compete, but it’s more important to be a gracious competitor who can balance individual accomplishment with humility. A friend of mine was blown away that now twice I’ve finished races and then waited in the rain or while feeling extremely sick to cheer them in. I finished a race that I get laughed at for doing because it’s not a “serious” race, then went back to collect friends and cheered everyone behind me in. Does this make me a weak competitor or human being? Maybe … but this world is so full of one-up-man-ship that it makes me sick.

I’ve been accused of being too weak to be a true competitor. I’ve been laughed at and told that because I don’t act like others or have their outward confidence that I’m never going anyplace. The fact I don’t have my life in proper order and that I have to work to get my training in proves that I have no clue as to priorities. I operated last year with a chip on my shoulder – feeling like I *had* to power through and all I did was hurt myself. I stopped caring and started acting as one who didn’t have anything worthwhile to stick around for – and found myself not only injured but constantly behind on everything. Nothing was of importance – and I was living 3 weeks behind.

I sit here in a towel – typing this randomness – and thinking aobut how different things might have been had I didn’t have to re-live the horrors of my life and do such, as usual, alone. However, I’m realizing that by looking at those horrors, closing the book and putting it on the shelf, I’m getting happier and stronger. As I drag out the refuse that has been littering my life, I’m not looking at the bags as they get carried to the curb … because it’s not worth re-living … and those who are bound and determined to force-feed me their versions of events or make certain I re-live them are just no longer worth my consideration.

The best part of the head injury/memory loss has been reconnecting with people whom I might have completely embarrassed myself during one of my many periods of self destruction. I’m past those periods now that I know from wence they were birthed. It’s like being able to start a new chapter without really having to re-read the previous ones.

“Ah, Lizzy” said an old friend a long time ago. “Miss Lizzy, Dear, you think just a smidge too deeply and care even deeper than that.” I agree.



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