Inspiration, Uncategorized

Changing Your Perspective to Joy

A long time ago, a woman very harshly told me that joy was my choice. She said that if I could just see it, I could certainly possess it. She was rather insistent that I get out of my bad mood and what is tantamount to an attitude of just “get over it.”

People who are so maliciously impatient with those who are suffering often truly bother me. They say or act in inappropriate ways. If I wasn’t who I was and I didn’t understand that was more about her inabilities than it was about her worry for me I don’t think I would have come to the same conclusions, which was that she was correct.

I was losing my home, I was fighting for my life because doctors could not figure out why my immune system was attacking me, and for the most part I was becoming increasingly frail and thin. I was in a state of shock, despair and I was stuck there.

Here’s the deal, you and me and everyone on this planet has to process through the things that hurt in a healthy way. When we get stuck in one of those four or five stages of grief it hurts us in a more deeply affected way. That hurt lasts a lifetime. That’s where I was. I was stuck, and I blamed. I resented. I hurt.

When I stopped focusing on the pain, and began to focus on the things that made me smile, I began to realize I was capable of joy. That felt like a revelation to me. When I saw the innocence of children playing. When the sun shined. All of the little things that I took for granted seemed to magnify themselves just for my mental health. When I would get dizzy I began to make jokes about it and people felt more at ease. All of the sudden my world opened up to laughter which is the first step toward finding that joy.

Today might be the day that you feel is worse than the last, but Sweetheart, the only person who can turn this day around is you. No one is going to come and take your hand and force you to smile. You have to believe that you are worth it. You have to believe that you have options. You have to believe in the hope that in the huge span of your existence, this is a blimp of a moment that will soon pass. You’re going to be okay. You got this. It’s hard, and it hurts, but find something, anything that will make you smile. Latch onto it. Don’t let it go. Ride it out as long as that feeling lasts and get yourself healthier.

Do it for you. Find that joy. Good luck to you.

Inspiration

It is Tough to be in Pain

Sometimes I forget that life can truly be painful when it’s not so much for me. Pain is a relevant thing in my life… that being said, it isn’t a constant but I have had tremendous burden of it throughout my whole life. So, for someone such as me to admit that I am one of those ‘take a pill and get over it’ individuals it is not because I haven’t walked a mile in your shoes, it is because I am not currently walking in them. Speaking to you about your woes pulls me back into my own and like a crab trying to get out of the water while other’s pull them down, I run the opposite direction. Shame on me.

There is a moment when we realize maybe someone could feel less wounded if we took a minute not only to share our burden but to life someone else’s above our own. The loss of a child, a man, a job, may seem merely an obstacle for some while for other’s it may be their biggest burden. The measure of main is indescribably difficult from person to person and it shouldn’t be up to those of use who have endured to sit in judgement of what that actual affliction should be.

It is with powerful reverence that I can even utter this retrospective conclusion given that my admission to the offense is certainly evident, however, I will pause to give a forlorn gaze upon you as I whisper, “You are not alone. I am ready to hear.”

There are moments when people want to know that their worries are held in high regard. The one denominating characteristic is that they want to be valued. How dare I not give credence to that basic acceptance we all feel?

I do value yours as you have mine. I do see you for what you in see me. I hate the things in you that I hate about the things I see in me. I am you, further, distant, different having past through the torment you currently suffer. I am hope, and light, and forgiveness and you in the infinite wisdom of time healing all wounds will be resolute in the completeness of knowing that you too will one day erect from whatever feeds your life a living hell right now, much more victorious than I should have ever or ever will be. For you have the benefit of acknowledgement and affirmation and that my friend is the first step to the momentous climbing out of the depths of despair you find yourself in.

You are worthy, admirable, and possess great strength and courage. All things are possible through these actions. I do have faith in you. You should too.

To learn more about me, check out http://www.RebeccaNietert.com or catch me on one of my social sites through twitter: @RebeccaANietert or Facebook: BexNietert

Inspiration

Let it Go Even When It Hurts!

Letting go is not an easy thing to do. For most of us, it’s that harsh reality that if we did we would no longer have that issue clouding our lives. A swift cut of the threads that bind us and we no longer have any expectations. What about when that cord is cut and the relationship is gone forever? What then?

I’ve learned in my lifetime that relationships although steadfast at times, rarely continue on that path. They falter, people get busy, and time passes and if there’s any distance whatsoever, a giant gap begins to creep in.  Before long, everyone is sore with each other.

I’ve said in another blog that I think it’s because when people are always together there are little things that offend them that they don’t really talk about because there’s generally better about the relationship than the bad. BUT when you move away, the bad is all they remember. The good isn’t something that sticks with people and they begin to feel that you’re just not worth the trouble anymore. Call it hurting from the abandonment they feel, or whatever. Try leaving and you will see what I mean.

Recently, a very violent and troubling hurricane ripped my town apart.  From the moment in began to come into town, my in-law family was on the phone telling me to evacuate. Hell, even a woman I haven’t seen in a decade was telling me to get out of there.  I decided to stay and posted my apprehension on my Facebook page.  Days passed and my power was out so I couldn’t post anything.  What I didn’t get to post was concern.  Then after the generator breaking and other issues with trying to stay bubbled up, I decided to hit the road through the rain and head to Dallas. All of which I did post on my social page.  I didn’t write on the page for a few more days and when I got back home after the holiday I posted that I had indeed made it back safely.

Maybe it’s because I have a laundry list of offenses, but I noticed that my siblings hadn’t called, or posted, or even acknowledged any concern for me. So while I was updating on Facebook I went to their pages. They hadn’t been on their pages.  My brother had and he sure posted often, but didn’t show any concern for me.  No comments on my posts. Nothing.  So, I thought at first, Wow.  Maybe they’re watching my FB Page and keeping up with it there?  My sister had not been on though.

I go out to lunch and I begin to talk with my gal pal about it and she tells me that they could have at least acknowledged it. She said that if they don’t even do that then I’m not on their minds at all. Out of sight, out of mind. She said that they’re not really trying to hurt me, it’s just that they’re busy enjoying their own lives. They don’t think to call. It’s not about me.

I mulled that over in my head the rest of the evening. I don’t know why that hurt me, and I needed to understand why that hurt me; and how I was going to compartmentalize that so that aforementioned laundry list wouldn’t get any bigger.

I thought long and hard about why the absence of their affection meant something this time. After all, I see my sisters and my brother laugh between them, share things and generally exclude me all the time.  I see my youngest sister who had the gift of my father her whole life post about her “sister” and not her “sisters.” It doesn’t bother me that I sent a birthday and Christmas card every year of her life and my father didn’t send my kids that many.  It doesn’t bother me that I stood in a funeral procession line after his death only to realize that 150 of his “closest friends” didn’t even know I existed.  It doesn’t bother me that I have visited a dozen times only to have them visit once.  All that is just part of living, right? It shouldn’t bother me.  So I tell myself.

Two years went by and I hadn’t called my brother. I didn’t hear from him in that two years. So the conclusion if you will, is that unless I make the calls, cultivate, organize and plan the meetings they won’t happen.  But that didn’t bother me…

I planned surprise birthday parties, I went to a wedding where the best man was my ex-boyfriend and the man who slapped me was one of her closest friends. I went to my brother’s wedding, and to the christening of his son.  For the proudest and most celebrated moments in their lives I was there.  I made it happen. Alone or not I was there.  It meant something to me to be there because I showed them that I love them. Regardless of all the past, the love that I had surpassed it all.

Last year when I went to my father funeral. I suppose that’s the deal breaker. That’s the notch in the list I cannot overcome.  How do that many people not know about me? Not one photo of me in his house.  He never spoke of me. Nobody knew about me.  It wasn’t the past any longer. This was my present. This was a huge wake up call to me.

They don’t even know my name. My brother’s children have no idea who I am. My sister’s kids act like they’re scared to death to talk to me.  It’s like somehow I have been labeled. I cannot for the life of me figure it out either? Is it truly about my posts on a Facebook page as my mother says? What is it? I don’t know, but all I feel is the sting of the rejection that comes from the emotional turmoil of it all.

Many tell me it shouldn’t bother me. This is my family! I ask why not? Why shouldn’t it hurt that they don’t care enough to reciprocate? I have spent my whole life waiting to matter to them.  I’ve shown constant love, commitment, action and general support. I guess what I realize is when it all comes down to it, I am just not a part of their priorities. Honestly it’s so sad to say because it’s pretty pathetic that I care so much, but it does hurt.

When I was young, and my mother would take me out of my bed and beat me I used to dream about my father rescuing me.  When my mother broke my jaw and cracked a bone in my arm, I used to dream about a family that didn’t do those kinds of things. I guess that the vision I have in my head is certainly a whole lot different than the one I see now.  I guess that’s perception. It’s like every so often I get a clue and I realize, “Rebecca, you’re just not important enough for them to think about you.” And I have to accept that. Feeling the discontent…

Inspiration

Arguments Hurt Relationships

If I had a quarter for every time I witnessed a double standard in a relationship I’d be a billionaire! Relationships are difficult even when two people get along. Simple things can become big misunderstandings and people get crossways at the simplest of issues.

For example: My mother and her husband are amazing together. They have the most fun of any couple I have truly ever seen. They can talk when they’re having fun, and the spark of joy is visible to everyone. Why is it then when the doors are closed and they have to communicate over how to cook a steak they get adamant about having it their way? Why the arguments and raised voices because it’s not cooked properly? Why can’t one of them say to the other, “Thank you for attempting to do something extraordinary for me despite the outcome?” Why do we fight to be right? Does that really matter?

Arguments like this are a direct result of unresolved issues within the dynamics of the relationship. In their case one fights for the right to be valued and the other fights for the right to be respected. Neither of them gets what they want in the end. Both of their feelings are wounded and both retract only to come back at a later date the next time steak is chosen for dinner and revisit the argument. It’s a never ending cycle without breaking the real issue. My question to them would be why can’t you talk reasonably at home as you do when out and about? Why is the necessity for an action of love only present among others?

It may sound like my questions are only of others, but I assure you that no one is harder on themselves or their actions than I am. The same question I would ask of anyone I surely would reflect on my own behavior. My relationship, however, is different. While I do not pick upon the little things like how to cook a steak I have a partner who does. His incessant need for control to avoid loss is the most epic issue in our relationship. His dominant personality will override even the most impervious.

My partner has an overwhelming sense of entitlement when it comes to his behavior. He feels justified in judgment and execution of his impenetrable beliefs. This makes for one to be regarded by some as above reproach and at the same time some see him as incredibly arrogant. I see him as both. When he decides that he’s going to bring the gauntlet down those around him quake in the wake. This is a fact I believe he’s proud of.

Very unlike me, he is consistent. That ability for longevity makes him appear trustworthy. While I am the type of person who believes in character above money and friends above me, I am often seen as the less than trustworthy because I don’t fit into a common mold. I stayed home with my kids, broke into Real Estate, wrote a novel about my tragic past, and pretty much went against the grain every chance I got. I forge my own path. I don’t follow status quo. I never have and I highly doubt I will start now.

My need for freedom and his need to control that freedom cause great strife in our relationship. He wants to be free, but doesn’t truly possess an inner hunger for it. He doesn’t dream of it, and covet it as I do. He’s grown accustom to change but that’s not the same thing. When he dreams it has finances attached. When I dream, there is merely wind and the open road. We have two different types of dreams for freedom. Neither are bad nor good, just two different perspectives that have kept us together.

The issue arises when I want to forge a new destiny only to be stifled by his need for control. A new idea becomes about what he would do. A course of action is altered because he removes the financing for it. There’s a measurement of control in everything I do. Just when I get enough gumption to go for it anyway, he brings on the emotional rejection, which of course is my trigger. Ultimately I wish I could say I have the intestinal fortitude to not let him like I did when I was young, but honestly I am just tired of fighting at my age.

People tell me all the time, “Rebecca you just don’t know what you want.” To that, I answer silently, “Yes I do.” I suppose I want a champion in life, (he is) and I suppose that I want someone who sees the champion in me. Someone’s who’s less apt to give me a reality check and more apt to say, “That a girl!” That’s something I don’t have. I never will. I suppose I want someone to let me talk, not throw stones and how I say what I do. I want someone safe enough to really listen to me. I want to know that my feelings are warranted or justified. I want to know that I am not alone, or crazy about how I think. I want to be encouraged, and to have all that as part of some big romantic plot to make me feel like a valued person. Those actions are fantasies to me, because I don’t believe that kind of relationship is real. I don’t think those behaviors come from men. Maybe it’s just me, but I’ve never seen that kind of behavior from any man I’ve ever met towards his partner male or female; and I have met a ton of men!

So I settle. I’m tired. I hear all the time about how difficult I am to live with. I don’t complain about the little things. I don’t pick on anyone. I don’t bitch. I am the most amiable person when it comes to change and acceptance. I love without condition. I don’t pick fights, and I don’t judge others. I fight for justice and freedom and my birthrights, but other than that, my only goal is to find a little bit of joy in my simple day. I find it odd, that others who are so incredibly difficult and full of boundaries and lines, and just quick tempers are so willing to let the rest of us know how it should be for them. I call that the ultimate sense of entitlement; and frankly it just makes me tired.

My life is coming to a mid-point. I’m about to celebrate my second 25th-birthday. I hope that I get a chance to celebrate all four. Maybe I am just reflecting on a life that I had, one I hope to have and the one I am in currently; and maybe, just maybe there’s a little crisis in that. Maybe I want romance? Maybe I want a sense of playfulness again? Maybe I want a sense of adventure, or a sense of playfulness? Maybe I need to feel beautiful, or maybe I need to feel intellectual? I don’t know what it is that I could use just this day, but the one thing that I have realized is; there is no one on this planet that is going to give it to me, but me! Thank you, Mom, for beating that into me. I finally get it.

Inevitably someone will hurt your feelings or offend your sensibility today. You can decide to wallow in it or shrug it off. Dance today. Make it fabulous so that the offenders watching do so in awe of the grace and elegance in which you choose to experience this fine day the Good Lord bestowed on us all!