Mirror, mirror…

October 6, 2010

I’ve been in a bit of a funk of late despite receiving relatively good news regarding my wrist.  I’m more than grateful that I don’t require surgery at this point, and though it’s a bit of a nebulous mystery as to what my future holds with wrist/pain/mobility, I am still pleased to know that my school venture will not be interrupted.

I’m just bummed that seemingly ‘old’ issues and repetitive nonsensical and damaging responses and ways of being are still floating around in my space.  I feel like I’ve run many ‘personal growth’ races, only to find that I’m still standing in the same spot.  I’m sure this is just a dramatic viewpoint, yet it is tangible, nonetheless.

How does one actually progress as a human being?  Is it circular, linear, haphazard, two steps forward…one step back, or is it one step forward…two steps back??  Any of the above??  None???

What gives me a modicum of hope at this juncture is that even when I’m in the heaviness of feeling like life is going backwards, or falling apart, I can feel whispers of the ‘other side’ of that particular experience.  Like a oasis seen on the horizon in a desert, or the sense of a cool breeze in a hot room, there is a reprieve…even for a moment, that I didn’t used to have.  It’s the sensation that if I only stood just a *little* more to the left (or right), I would be in a better space.  A more harmonious space…  A space that is life supporting…

Maybe that *is* progress??  I never used to have even a sliver of this feeling whilst in the midst of despair.  Perhaps I’m being offered an escape route?  An Alice in Wonderland type mirror to step through, without all the additional odd characters and challenges awaiting me on the other side.

I want to leap out of this old, used-up, crusty way of being in martyr/victim-mode.  Good lord but it gets weary…

I know that there is another Alison on the other side of that mirror.  She beckons…and I hear the call.

Time to enter my own personal wonderland, and explore the delights…


I was at a summertime sleep over at Leslie’s house a long time ago.  We must have been about 11 or 12.  There was a tight knit group of girls from school who were invited, and we all had brought our sleeping bags and accessories.  It was supposed to be fun.   Games and food and the outdoors.  What could be better??  I had a flashback recently on what happened with me that evening.  I don’t remember the specifics, yet I took offense at something.  A word, or an action?  Did I feel left out??  I really don’t know or remember.  What I do remember is that I thought it best that I leave.  I thought it best that I *announce* that it would be better that I leave.  I was sure that everyone would rally around and say, “No, Alison, please stay!!”  I was wrong…

It had gotten late, and Leslie just looked at me blankly after I pointed out my impending exodus, and said, “so you want me to wake my dad so he can take you home?”  She didn’t seem to care.  I freaked out, for what I wanted was for them to say they were sorry.  I wanted them to want me to stay.  I wanted them to prove they were my friends.

Instead I received Leslie’s reasonable question:  “do you want to go home, then?”.

I ended up going home.  I guess I thought I would be saving face or something by actually leaving.  My parting words to everyone were, “I’ll pick up my utensils tomorrow”.  Good lord.  How dramatic.  That phrase came back to haunt me years afterwards as my little scene was the butt of many jokes to come.

My present “epiphany of sorts” is this:  I’ve been doing this same kind of shit for years in a variety of different fashions.  I’ve made others jump through hoops in order to “prove” they love me and want me around.  I’ve made others follow me around in order to ask, “what’s wrong??”.  I’ve played a martyr and I’ve been mean.  I’ve asked more from others than I have asked of myself.  I’ve been dramatic and overly sensitive and I’ve managed to make everything about me.

It’s a really old, and really lame modus operandi.  I suppose I didn’t know any better at 11, but I sure can know better and do better at 46.

To those closest to me to whom I have inflicted this ridiculous charade more often than I would really like to admit…I am remarkably sorry.  Please accept my apologies for being an ass.

I truly intend to be different.  I know it is not all about me, and it *is* safe to love and let go at the same time.

I got it.

And to all my friends from those many years ago, thank you for just sending me on home.  35 years later…and maybe I finally understand what *real* love and friendship is all about.

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