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Walk a day in my shoes
They’re old and worn
and sometimes pushed aside or go unseen
See life through my eyes
passed the dysfunction and sound times balanced on top of an emotion
that occasionally temper my judgments or make me look like a fool
I hold out my hand in peace
You are you, and I am me
Because we both know there is no other true way to be
This is not a religious post.
Most of our life lessons happen because we engage with other people. Some lessons are dropped on our thick heads, but the hard-to-stomach revelations happen when we step back, take inventory of what is happening in our lives, and ask Why?
The sad truth is we push our needs aside in an “attempt” to show people how we want to be treated. And that is what puts us in ruin. Worst case scenario, we spend decades trying to get someone to treat us with the respect you’ve shown them for the same amount.
We ignore treating others as we wish to be treated, a common sense rule, by doing unto them what we want, but in turn, getting disrespected back. All along, they showed us how they wanted to be treated by accepting good treatment by giving little back.
At first, you feel like a hero. You’ve heard their sob stories, jumped on their side against whoever hurt them, and willingly accepted their failures. Why? Because you were raised to accept hardship, believe in honesty, and give second chances. But to what end?
All of us have fallen for a sob story. How long after a failed rescue do you feel guilty for wanting to move on? What happens when guilt becomes part of the rescue? It will happen. After years of putting someone you love first and placing your aspirations on hold, the “victim” will do something that reveals, absolutely, their true selves, they may or may not have anything to do with their past. What do we do then?
Some of us will break, scream, and eventually walk away and spend time learning why we allowed this to happen to us.
Others will allow years of their lives to pass, hoping things will change. Threats and misery will continue for as long as they allow.
Some die miserably.
Some get out and find true happiness.
It’s all up to us.
I treat others the way I wish to be treated, but I won’t stand by allowing others to use my kindness and generosity against me. And no, I won’t lower myself and go against what I believe by treating them the way they treated me.
That’s not me.
It’s hard to walk away from someone you care about. Someone you’ve invested in so much time, energy, and emotion. I find it’s kinder to walk away than stay and make two lives miserable. More than two lives because misery is a parasite.
Be kind to yourself. Rescue comes from within. You can get help but the hardest of the work must be our burden, alone.
I can’t say this enough, choices matter. Past actions matter, especially the misinformed, they are repeated. It all comes down to consequence. For example, a man abandons his child. His excuses, “The mother’s a bitch.” “The mother wants too much money.” “She’s crazy and her family’s crazy.” “The mother uses child visitation to extort money.” And in the end, the entirety of his family abandons their niece/nephew/grandchild at the word of the father. BUT it’s a good sob story to draw the next woman into his toxic drama. How do I come to this conclusion? After all the excuses are made, complaints are reported, and crocodile tears from the “loss” of this child, does he send money to help their child? Gifts to show he cares. It’s simple logic. And yes, this is one of my greatest pet peeves!! And I believe has the great ability to destroy a child’s mental health. Eventually these children grow up, mature, and learn the truth. Their choices from then on are more than likely to be based on abandonment.
So…
We are shackled to consequences despite the violent tantrums we throw to unhitch them. Defending is enabling. No matter who you are, you’re responsible for the decisions that cause harm to others and yourself. Blaming others gives these people a free pass to do it again.
Harm through intention is deliberate if help is not sought out. I was raised by a parent who hurt rather than healed. His self-destructive actions screamed for help. I heard his screams at a young age. Rather than help, he sought more pain and therefore became a skilled liar and gambler of excuses. Through my fifty-plus years—and though I haven’t heard them all—I can usually sense a fabricated excuse within a single rationalization. In other words, I can tell when someone is defending the indefensible. You can sense a lie, too. If the excuses exceed one…he truth is not one of them.
I’ve learned to listen. My father trained my mind to notice red flag statements said off the cuff. Some comments strike my heart because they come from people I love. Those stuck.
Lies and misinformation are everywhere these days. People want to be more critical than professional. They speak the truth here and there, but ultimately what they tell you is what they believe, even going so far as to fabricate pictures, reports, and/or government files to convince you. And those who have come to respect these storytellers, no longer check the facts.
I come back to excuses now because that’s what you will hear amongst the preaching, the lies, and the emotional plea for understanding pain. I understand pain. I also know it’s not right to add your pain to others. Or to qualify your beliefs with people who claim to be experts without the required education and experience, or claim to have excuses as to why this or that horrible thing happened. I’m not interested in those who pretend to know secrets, deep-state bullshit, or information that came from a Wanna-Be-filmmaker or author or someone who has nothing better to do or wants to make money by drawing in subscribers.
Two kinds of mindsets. Those who want, take. Those who want, work. We all fall into those two categories, no one is spared. I fall into the Want/Work side. There are always sides. True more so for people who say they don’t take sides or invalidate the sides.
Each side holds a list of personal requirements/beliefs that help a person live and move forward. Claiming a side is not how it’s done. No. To know a person’s truth, you have to listen and observe before speaking. Edits or challenges change the path to truth. To correct thought or observation or point of view in a conversation is fruitless. You stop listening and start dictating. A lot of information is missed when you edit a person’s words to fit your criteria.
That is not a conversation. That is a debate.
Now, I will be challenged. And I should. I grew up in a low to middle class family with its share of dysfunction. Our dynamic included lies, trauma, and the struggle to exist in a narrow-minded system. I didn’t know how narrow-minded it was until I matured. I want push back. Tell me what you really think.
I started life on these misunderstandings:
I didn’t know what cancer was or its severity until my mom was diagnosed and died.
I didn’t know what gay was.
I didn’t know about racism, discrimination, and about religious control or how they negatively affected my childhood mind.
Yes. In my point of view and from what I know after 53 years of living and experiencing, these edits to natural existences, tampered with my growth. Rather than excepting nature’s forever existences like homosexuality, interacial interactions on all levels, jewish people don’t have hooves and horns(not my experience, but a revolting taught lie all the same), god hates, god punishes through murder of the innocent rather than the criminal(Passover), and worst of all men rule. I pushed back on that last one at a very early age. I must have been male in my previous life.
I’ll stop here. For us to live in a symbiotic nation, WE must accept who we are and allow everyone to choose who they are so we can focus on how we are treated by those whose power stems from materials and not honor.
Hello again. The ground was hard and painful, but I dug through the layers, chilled and burned, cut and scraped. Still, the earth let me go. Lying on my back, catching lost breaths, I’m writing again. It sucks to be lost. Truly lost, not wandering around inside my head, or puzzling out a solution to a present problem. The now escaped me. I tossed my past for answers to this troubling and frustrating dilemma.
Love is not supposed to be a trap. Do you know the tv show ”Catfish? It’s a hit MTV show because people don’t believe that the person they love, doesn’t or can’t love them back. The catfish’s actions are solely based upon the love of themselves.
Even the intelligent get trapped in the mind of person who lives in the world of manipulation. A person whose whole existence is to give themselves the life they deserve. Worse… is the victim who’s made of empathy, compassion, and kindness. Who can recognize deceit and manipulation in others but just can’t see it happening to them.
I watch murder shows. Real investigations shown through police body cameras, street and shop cameras, and interrogation rooms. The act of murder does not draw me to these shows. They’re horrible acts done by evil people. The lies interest me. Murders cry, fabricate stories full details that seen through the senses of a civilian, feel true. You actually feel sorry for them that’s if you don’t know better.
I know better. Now.
Liars have tells. Some are very difficult to detect. Some punch a snort out of your nose.
To be continued. I would love to hear about your experiences with liars.
I don’t believe in luck.
I don’t believe in karma.
I believe in choices.
I believe in perecentages.
I also believe in facts, actions I witness, and evidence.
Whether it be determining a person’s intentions or deceptions, I base my opinions on facts, evidence, and actions.
Everyone born, rich or poor, is faced with a direction and role in society. Eventually, despite the influences of their surroundings , they must take responsibilty for their choices, good or bad, and not make excuses when they make a choice that hurts someone else.
This is why I delay judgement until I have more than enough proof to back my opinion. Even when excuse after excuse are hurled at me, especially when the person in question remains silent allowing others to argue their motives and values, I listen and observe. That’s when I stop pointing out inconsistencies, observations, and past actions that haven’t been owned.
Makes me sad to see imtelligent people Slowly lose their integrity each time they make an excuse for someone whose life and future rely on others to make the life they want to live, possible.
I paid the price of childhood. Grew from love into an angry, watchful protector who bristled bigger and more dangerous than those who dared to stroll into my circle. Married with children, I alone fought the demons that taunted me in my dreams and in my childhood home. Love was sacrificed for stoic indifference. Affection I gave to those I bore and no one else. A warrior from birth I surged into the fight that was life, baring teeth and exposing claws. No one would get near, not even those I held dear. So, alone and determined I kept safe the three lives I would die for.
Fate is not written in stone or blood. Fate, I believe is the outcome of each and every decision a person makes. It’s not fate that knocked me off the path and tore up my feet and soul as it sent me rolling over rough and jagged grounds. Breaking my will, beating my solitary ways to a pulp, just so I could see what kept me distant from the ones I loved. An unexpected kick in the teeth gave me quite the unique 4d perspective. I examined the thick hyperbaric chamber I’d constructed out of fear and ignorance. I didn’t know that there was more out there. The kind and compassionate they made of most of the world.
Ay first, I felt defeated. Tied to a bed by my own body and mind, I turned further inward away from even those I loved because I’d felt that I betrayed them. My only job…gone. My strength and control ripped out from beneath my feet. That little door between me and mine and the rest of the world, closed.
I sank into darkness.
And everyone I pushed away, reached in and dragged me out!
Miraculous patches, Animal medicines, Rieki, spiritualism, karma, chakras, reincarnation, god, the power of the human mind. You get it, right? What is true? Hell if I know, but maybe it’s whatever gets us through life without bowing down to paralyzing fear. Wait…is it fear that brings us to these answers? All I know is that I won’t bow to someone else’s answers. You won’t make me believe if I don’t want to. We all do it. Why? We’re all afraid of what will happen if we don’t. Letting go to be true to ourselves and no one else is the scariest leap any of us will ever endeavor to take.
Death. It seeks all of us. Death = Fate. True and tried. It is the last event of our lives, yet, in most cases, there are more mind changing events before it. Being born is one of the first. Some souls end just before or after. That’s their earth fate. (Read between the lines. I believe in reincarnation. The terrifying idea of death is alleviated by the notion that, one day, I’ll choose to return or remain (Wherever) to party with deceased relatives.) My belief stems from family stories and several personal sightings of ghosts. My conclusion—-reincarnation. I haven’t the foggiest idea how seeing ghosts equates to reincarnation, except as a additive I have dreams of deceased people who give me premonitions into the future. Yup. I do.
Now I’m weird? I believe in ghosts (because I’ve seen and heard them). I trust in the power of the human mind, the power of helping healing energy. I also know that absolutes don’t exist, we are not alone, and we all need help at one time or another. Shame stops us for asking for that help. Fear divides us. Those who perpetuate shame by using fear divide and conquer the brave and courageous among us.
I don’t know if what I believe is true. It’s a belief. Everyone has them. Yet, we are divided, attack each other, have created an us or them mentality. It takes one person to divide thousands of people. There’re no real differences that should cause such a break in society. We all want to be safe. So, do what makes us all safe. How difficult is that? You don’t like something—-don’t do it. If there are things you don’t understand, then accept there not for you. You can want things without them hurting others. If it hurts others, maybe you need to rethink what it is you want. Compromise over selfishness. You are not your sister, aunt, neighbor… Not everyone should be an artist, or heart surgeon. Our differences strengthen out community—-country. Who we love is no one else’s business. Everyone has a right without a fight to their own bodies.
I find it amusing that we, as a people, have fallen into a pick-and-choose religious belief. Religions and churches pop up like weeds and people flock to the fields of wild notions. I’m my own goddess, my own beliefs. I am personally responsible for everything I do and every choice I make…good or bad. I don’t always get it right, and sometimes my actions hurt others. That is my shame to bare, my amends I need to make. You are not me. I am not you. So, why do i sometimes take what someone else says, personally?
I wish I knew. I doubt that 100 years of therapy would bring me to that answer. I only know that I’m wrong for judging how someone else feels because of some deep seated resentment or horrible event that escapes my memory. Observing others while keeping my own mind quiet is revealing. I learn more about someone when they don’t know they’re being watched. I learn even more when I listen as they speak to me, or someone else, without interruption. Facial expressions, hand gesture, and natural mannerisms are telling. My own included.
I’m at the point in my life that what I feel during an experience or conversation, whether it is anger or joy, is significant to learning about myself. Isn’t that what matters most? I have enough to do in my own life than worry about someone else’s….even my children. They are adults now. And yes, it is hard to stay quiet when I believe something that differs from their belief. Unfortunately, if you don’t learn from experience… you won’t learn at all. That’s the burden we all must suffer through.
Okay… I’m done. For now. Peace!!!!
So, we come to me. I am responsible for my actions, reactions, and decisions. I sit on my couch, in this place and time, a culmination of who I am. I won’t say all my decisions were thought out. I’m scarred from childhood drama. Back then, I’d inserted myself into adult subject matters at the lowly age of ten. By thirteen, I’d kicked my father out of the house. Well, more like yelled at him to leave when I’d discovered his infidelity. My heroic gesture opened up a whole new can of maggots. I’d learned just how detached he was to our family. But this isn’t about him. I realize now how detached I’d become to every one else on earth, including my family. My rights became everyone else’s wrong. I became a laughing stock and joke fodder. Miss righteous. Misunderstood. Misguided. I got lost in my tiny pristine world of “if I won’t do it, neither will you.” Is it surprising that i was a republican back then?
I remained stifled until High school. I heard terrible words, insults, judgements…from the adults around me. From my father to the the pope, I learned hate and intolerance. My best friend smoked weed and I almost ended the friendship. Why? Ignorance. Not willful. The difference being I’d no inkling that I could be wrong.
I wasn’t aware of race or homosexuality. Today, I remember hearing derogatory words spoken beneath a dark spotlight. Generations of hate past forward to their children. One defamatory twist of perspective (No facts in sight) taints what is a natural phenomenon, disgracing and distorting its truth, to give power to the ignorant and sometimes willful ignorant power-seeking history-falsifying Marauders. As a human under the burden of others, I was one of them.
Because of the fog hate, though there were many instances of love and affection, I embraced fear and not love.
Fear drew my mind, my health, the safety of my children inward. I saw predators everywhere, therefore it was not I who had to change, but everyone else. I lived in Misery despite adoring my children. They were the only ones who saw my loving nature. I’d die for them. Accept them as is. Unconditional love. Only I could protect them. No one but a few people and for short periods of time, watched them when I’d no choice but to go out. My husband, a good daddy, didn’t fit my idea of bodyguard. To others, I looked unapproachable and intimidating. And then something happened that entirely decimated my already fragile world. Cancer.
Some would say that fear and misery became the cells that threatened to overtake my organs. Eat away at what I couldn’t live without, until I no longer lived. Cancer forced me to make a choice. Continue protecting my children in til I died in a year or so, OR trust others to protect them while I sat in a room for four hours a week, with IV pumping poison through my veins. Who knew that the only way to stop the spiritual darkness destroying my soul was a disease that ate me alive from the inside out. Because of my children, I chose to trust others so I could get better and return to my children. For a year and a half, nauseated, barely able to get out of bed, no hair, puffy complexion, no resemblance to my formidable self, I stopped thinking. All my fears were contained inside surviving, and for the first time in my life, I felt free to just love. Love was what got me through, made me see, and caused me to abandon the path paved by others to make my own path.
to be continued…
Monster are everywhere. Planted by the darkness from other people’s hearts. So, the weight from our own is obscured by those passing theirs on to us. Does it somehow relieve their burden? Is this where “misery loves company” comes from? I thought I grew up fast. Growing suggests maturity. That couldn’t be further from the truth. I learned veiled concepts about the world I lived in without context or understanding. Because of them, I became judge, jury and executioner to those around me. That’s what I despise most about people today. People who make judgements turning them into laws that prevent others from right filled freedoms. Without knowing about what made people work, I decided what they should and shouldn’t do. Religion made it easy rise above the rest. I simply followed the bread crumbs of defiant ignorance priests chewed up and spit out over pews filled with fearful parishioners. I ate up their words as much as anyone else.
But I changed my mind when their words and my experiences did not only diverge but also their Homily’s degraded my person, gender, and role in this world. One Priest told the parishioners that “It wasn’t the snake in the tree that caused humanity’s problems, it was the tomato on the ground.”
That last straw obliterated the camel.
52 years later I’m still looking for me, though I’m closer to the person I am supposed to be rather than the puppet society would have me become.
Our souls send us signals disguised as choices to learn important lessons. We all have potential for success. That’s the total truth. But success is not wealth, materials, or power. It’s simply bettering yourself from whatever situation into which you were born. That includes being born into a wealthy family because power, money, and material things will corrupt our souls. Make people do things to people, those less fortunate or desperate, to keep their “easy” life. So simple and easy becomes hard and desperate for those who are addicted to power.
It took a very long time to begin this cleansing journey. And it’s not easy or simple because what my soul’s knowledge leaks to me is dripped into my human mind. Like I said, the human experience is veiled by all those who come into your life. A ton of veils weighs a ton. As light as a single veil is—- peeling off each one takes enormous effort and time. I have met opposition to my journey at every crossroad since age of 35. I am 52.
I want the truth about who I am so I can find my purpose or at the very least leave this lifetime better for my children. To continue on, I will follow the evidence, the signs that my soul and spirits send me.
My next post will give details of my journey/adventure thus far. From 35 to 52 I’ve a a few unexplainable experiences. They opened my eyes to more than what the eye can see.
To be continued….
Mel Evers wonders about it all 