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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
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.
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!
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….
As I said, my subconscious is burdened by input from a thousand experiences, some not my own. Even though I’m fully aware of the influence other’s have on my decisions, transitioning from their beliefs and stories to my own is difficult. My mother raised us with affection tainted by her own past fears. She wanted us strong and independent, yet (I didn’t know this until she died) her fears sowed by her childhood corroded the way she raised us. (I have one older sister and two younger brothers).
Did I have a good childhood? Better than some. Worse than others. Every stage of our lives get several small challenges, or one large one we have to overcome to gain a soul level. You know, like in video games, only when we refresh after death, we’re in a different life. Same challenges but with contrasting influences and set of beliefs. According to some religions, we’re born sinful. The natural act of procreating blackens our souls before we take our first breaths. I dropped that belief long ago. In fact, within the last sixteen years (I’m 52), I cleansed my belief system down to one that make sense to me. Really, that’s all that matters. How? My decisions, my thoughts, my actions and reactions…all mine. My soul is my guide. Does it help me knowing this? A little. When I close myself off from everyone else I let my truth surface to engage head-on with anger or happiness, whatever it is I need to face, I do it on my terms.
For example, If I become enraged by someone’s actions, reactions, words, that hurt others despite the judgmental’s unaffected personal life…I, about half the time take a step back to balance my wildly protective instincts.
My mom protected us from everyone and everything except the one person who hurt us most, our father. His childhood molded the way he acted later in life. Religion, indirectly and directly had a lot to do with his dysfunction, but his choices in life were all his own. For years I ignored the contrary mindset. At times he’d say love god and all will be well. On the flip side he’d go on a hate-dripping tirade about other people in and outside of the family.
Do I wish I had different parents? Ha, I chose them as influencers before I returned to the game board. I imagine a meeting of the souls. Contracts are drawn up, roles are picked, and so are our starts and finishes. Though I’d accepted this belief, I had a hard time accepting the roles of the most heinous soul-players pedophiles and psychopaths, but If we are to learn everything, we must experience everything. Knowing this, doesn’t make my anger less sharp or my actions less violent towards these wild cards that are put in place to create lessons. Perhaps not accepting those pedophiles who pose as church clergy or good deed dads in boy scouts etc, is a level I passed in a previous life. Could be I played the role as the molested, or a molester many lives before. All I know for sure is that’s one circumstance I protected my children from, fiercely. I saw predators everywhere I went., even in the family. The threat of death was known to all who went near them without my permission. I didn’t go out. I guess some time in my past I’d been prey to a violent predator, so much that the experience is burned deeply and still painfully in my soul’s memory.
To Be Continued…
We hear about someone’s best laid plans going up in flames and often think, well, that’s not the path given by “God”. “God helps those who help themselves”. The holes in those theories left me wandering in a lonely place with a collar and leash choking me in directions I didn’t wish to go.
Then it hit me.
We are here to make progress. perhaps, other souls are here to challenge/block us or help us move forward. Soul Contracts. The theory then becomes the best laid plans of the soul and how the human mind thwarts our attempts at success. Who is who? That’s the puzzle we created for ourselves before birth. To start, we are given two pieces when we are born. Those two pieces we choose right off the bat. A mother and a father. We’ve picked them specifically to help us grow into our true selves. Remember, depending on how well you listen to your instincts/higher self, the part of you that connects your mind to your soul, you will grow in small increments or leaps and bounds. Your time limit for that those lessons is the duration you’ve planned to live in one lifetime. Don’t worry, there’s no such thing as failure. You’ll have to do it again in your next life. Personal soul growth is what it is. In my case, one parent was loving while the other hateful. I grew up dancing on opposite sides of the emotional spectrum.
So, how did I end up here? And where is here? It wasn’t until their deaths were their lives revealed. Imagine as an adult, a mountain of knowledge falling on your head, that coincide with some memories but not others (as related through a sibling) and certain events finally making sense. Does the knowledge help me help others. Yes and no. Depends solely on the path of the soul you want to help or warn.
To be continued.
First, I want to point out that I struggle with the concept of “A God” You’re thinking that something happened in my life to question a divine-intersex’s existence. Yes, but it’s not what you think. The battle has to do with the use of the word vs action.
Everywhere I go, I hear, “Thank God.” A baby falls out of a three story building and lives, by a feat of heroism or—dare I say—a miracle. Who do we blame when the baby dies? We don’t scream at the devil. And what about those people who saved the baby? They are thanked but only as a tool of God. People devote many years of their lives studying ways to save human lives. Most police officers understand that their job sometimes require the ultimate sacrifice. Our military suffers the most yet when they manage to survive and make it home, God is nowhere to be seen, to ensure the healing and gratitude they earned.
Now I want to tell you a story/joke. You may have heard it somewhere before, but It’s a story/joke that’s stuck with me. I, of course, am adding my own twist to make a deeper point.
A man stood on his rooftop surrounded by rising water. He prayed to God. To help him.
A man in a rowboat came by and told him to hop in. The man refused, saying God would save him. The water rose higher. A man in a motor boat came by and told him to hop in. Again, the man refused saying that God would save him. Just as a helicopter flew to him and hovered a few feet above his head, the water rose up over the man’s ankles. A rope ladder was thrown down to dangle just able the man’s head. A woman yelled for him to climb up and instead of grabbing hold of the ladder. He pushed it away and said, “I don’t need your help. God will save me. The helicopter pilot flew away.
The man drowns and goes to heaven where he meets god. The man is furious. He yells, “I had faith in you! I had faith that you would save me, and instead you let me drown!” God smiles and says, “I sent you a rowboat, a motor boat, and a helicopter.”
“But that was not you,” the man whined.
“Of course it was,” God replied in a voice that projected a murmur of many tones, female and male. “Every choice you make brings you closer to us or further from us. It is not the acts thrust upon you, but the reaction to those acts that define who you are. Together we are invincible, apart we are vulnerable. That is why we test each other. We are the good actions and the bad actions that stand at every crossroad. On earth, our choices affect all like they do here, but there on, on earth, you think you’re alone and that makes you prey to fear which leads to hate which causes pain to millions who you refuse to see or know. If on earth you can see others outside of your skin, then ascension has begin. For, if you can feel beyond the limits of your body you will never feel alone again.
“What does this mean for me?”
“Back down you go.”
”Noooooooo.”
Having been to many medical specialists, I know who cares rather than see me as a statistic. I change doctors and specialists when they make me feel like a blob of flesh riding on the conveyor belt. A few doctors lost my trust just by their pernicious wording as pertaining to my life expectancy. For instance, the breast surgeon who cut away me cancer (And breasts) spoke only about my 80% chance to live. I changed doctors and my new doctor gave me a hug. I am not a statistic. I’m a person with emotions. So. Here are some people that Have earned my respect.
My sister: We had a rocky start. She is day and I am night but we are true family linked by twilight. Our children brought us closer, but my cancer revealed the depth of our connection. During chemotherapy, though I looked like the walking dead, with no hair, she called me up every day to walk. I know, now, because of our stressful childhood, that she is good at hiding her emotions. I learned last year that our father’s antics hurt her emotionally. We all suffered differently. It’s sad we had to do it alone until then. Anyway, she kept me going through a hard time and I can’t thank her enough.
My brother George: Keeps me on my toes. I call him my human autocorrect. He’s hysterical and so fast with his wit. He’s there when I need to vent. He doesn’t mince words or placate me, and tells me what I should hear rather than what I want to hear. George was there The Whole time during our mother’s illness. Stayed by her side when the rest of us couldn’t be there. I thank him dearly for that. His husband is the straight-man in their relationship….LMAO see what I did there?
John: Johnny boy. No longer a boy, but a man with two beautiful, smart, and amazing daughters. He’s loyal to the core, despite being betrayed by a man who hid his true nature from John, for years. Since I started caring for his daughters, I’ve gotten to know the man and stopped seeing him as a boy all together. He works his ass off and takes care of his family. His children are his Breaths and his wife, a wonderful strong woman, is his heart. It’s wonderful to see him mentally escape the corruption that was our father. I know that emotionally he still struggles, but he’s winning the fight. We have a family history, on our father’s side, of a cycle of breaking up families. He single handedly broke the cycle last year. John Weissinger is an amazing person indeed.
Jan my friend: Single-handedly restored my faith in friendships. She speaks her mind, understands and voices her vulnerabilities. We can agree to disagree and there are no requirements to being her friend. What a nice change of pace. I’m not perfect. I make mistakes. I get emotionally all warrior at times, more and more infrequently now, but she doesn’t attack me because of it. She offers different perceptions and strategies to go about facing whatever it is disabling my intellectual brain. I love her for it.
Shout out: To Melissa, my physical therapist who, with an amazing team, got me looking forward to being tortured( LMOA) and walking again. I had a knee replacement last July. I knew I needed to exercise to get my knee working again, but I didn’t realize the physical and emotional toll it would have on me. You get the physical part, I’m sure, but emotional? Let me explain…During Chemo your body is poisoned and your insides start to mush up because of opoptosis (Cell death) all you want to do is sleep. The pain from the knee replacement caused that same reaction. I wanted to sleep. Didn’t want to go out, but walked anyway because… well, I did want to walk again. And then I started Physical therapy. Melissa turned that pain into motivation. She treated me like a human being. Talked about her life and her struggles, both good and bad, and made me feel like I was going to a coffee house with a friend, (replace the coffee with painful stretches) instead of see pain as a negative. I think only people who’ve been through this truly understand what I’m saying. Like I mentioned previously, I only stick with people who are true to their purpose, themselves and their lives. People who are heroes in their fields because they care. From day one, I knew she did.
More to come…. People are inspiring me a lot lately.
Love doesn’t die—-
I’d put off getting my new driver’s license for weeks. Why? I needed a notary to apply for an original birth certificate. Why they couldn’t acknowledge my existence when they’re the ones that sent me the reminder to update my license, is beyond me. Had my date of birth and everything on my old one, oh well. Why am I telling you this? Well, I hadn’t planned on doing that today, until, who I like to call my muse, intuition and sometimes Mom, pinged my brain with a sense of urgency. “Do in now,” it said. “And don’t go where you’d planned. Go to the library.” Even from the beyond, when she says “Jump.” I say, “How high.” So pushy…
And this is what happened—-
The notary recognized me. I felt bad that I couldn’t say the same. She told me that our children knew each other 15 years ago and that, during an elementary school event, I told her something that helped her through a tough time. She remembered the story I told her about how my mother, who died 22 years ago, kept coming to me like she needed to tell me something. She entered my dreams at night and played with my anxiety during the day. Finally, I made an appointment with a medium so I could speak with her. (I’d never been to one before, though I do believe.) I’m glad I listened. She told me I was sick and it had to do with female issues. Well, she was right. With no symptoms to speak of, my very first mammography revealed I had an aggressive form of breast cancer.
(Back to today and the notary) She remembered the story and in fact kept it close to her heart al these years. What I didn’t know was, at the time, her father had passed. They were close. She thanked me, rendering me speechless. That alone can be considered a miracle.
So, if you haven’t guessed, I follow the from-the-beyond signs and paths.
Mel Evers wonders about it all 