I don’t know me

I am thinking. Thinking about what I have robbed myself of, what parts of myself I have allowed to die. What i have not fed and watered, cared for, nurtured. One of my providers talks a lot about re-parenting myself, and my resistance to that amounts to…how can I re-parent myself in a healthy fashion when I have no frame of reference for that, no example, no model?

There are a great many things I’ve learned on my own, ferreted out the information or relied on my instincts or my intuition. I frequently come up with the correct answer, a viable solution, sometimes a creative solution but cannot validate the results, at least not to the satisfaction of others.

I wonder how much the satisfaction of others should govern the value of my product. As I am seeking to establish myself, recreate myself, in a different iteration now how much should I rely on external validation? How much should I care about whether others affirm the quality of whatever I produce?

As I ask those questions, I am necessarily brought to a focal point at which I do not wish to arrive. It’s the point of financial interest, income, survival. I don’t want to be there. I have never wanted to be there, but here I am.

I have been a little disconnected, or at least discombobulated (one of my favorite words), today. It’s mainly because I am fretting just a bit over financial issues, and that makes me vaguely resentful. I should not have to produce a poverty level income to prove that I need assistance to pay for health insurance. In that case, the system requires me to settle for, or stomach, any employment that will satisfy a number on a chart. That’s not helpful.

Systems have no personality, no grey areas, no compassion. They are not human, they are policies and data and words on pieces of paper. Humans who administer those systems, however, are imbued with things like discretion and judgement and discernment. Unfortunately, because we are a litigious society, most administrators find themselves adhering to the letter of the law rather than the spirit of the law. No grey areas, and we can’t be sued. That’s also not helpful.

Anybody can sue anybody else. That doesn’t mean that a suit will be successful, but it ccan be filed. I find that to be a pain in the proverbial arse. Like calling the police for non-violent stuff, having the ability to do a thing doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to do.

I don’t quite know why I am fretting about any of this in the first place, because it will be OK. This I know. It may not be fair, or make any kind of sense, but it will be OK. I will get a damned job. I would prefer it be something I can actually do, something that I can live with ethically, but at this point, who knows. I am used to settling, and this is for a good cause.

While I am sitting here, in my enclave of clutter, I feel a bit like Jo in Little Women, alone in her garret and creating another world, where things were very different from the one she had. The world I want is definitely a far cry from the one I have at the moment, although I’m grateful for this one. Things could be so much worse for me right now, and I am truly grateful they are not.

I sometimes listen to speakers who talk about self-empowerment, and self-activation. How to manifest your desires. These are not the kooky ones that want to sell you their CD package of how to make a million bucks selling real estate, or buying into a pyramid scheme. These are more about focusing your energy, becoming self-actualized. I don’t spend money on this, but there are free newsletters and old YouTube videos that can be motivating. New age meets channeling and mysticism.

The premise of some of this is…you have the power within to manifest what it is that you desire. What have you forgotten about how to do that? OK, that sounds pretty simple, right? Weeeeel, I get the point, and can’t say I don’t agree that I have probably forgotten any number of things about how to propel myself toward what I want. I have been more than frustrated, for quite a long while, with not being able to get what I want.

My issue, however, is that when it comes to things like a job, or money, or material things…I can see how focusing positive energy, gratitude, and so on could make a difference. When it comes to things like terminal disease, or dementia, it seems more complicated to me.

I have a kind of flickering resonance with the notion that on some esoteric level, we choose everything. It’s not supposed to make cognitive sense, or even seem like positive outcome, but somewhere along the line, we choose. I have heard that everything that happens in our lives is somehow the answer to a prayer. That’s hard to swallow when the experience is painful, or even tragic, but…there’s a note that reverberates somewhere in me, however faintly, in response to that.

Who is to say that somewhere, somehow, I didn’t “pray” to learn how to be more self-aware, believe more in myself, understand loss, understand loneliness? Perhaps what I am experiencing, no matter how painful and unpleasant, enable my spirit to grow in ways I could not consciously effect. Perhaps.

Who is to say that somewhere, somehow, there’s not a force that has consciously determined what is going to happen for me, and this is all pre-ordained? Well, I say that’s not the case. That sympathetic chime doesn’t ring for me when I consider that all of my outcomes are set, and my efforts are more or less a waste of my time. That doesn’t work for me. It just doesn’t feel right.

I’ve been told many times that we choose our parents, in some other reality or plane of existence, and we choose those scenarios based on what is necessary for us to learn, or do, or achieve, or something. My initial response to that has always been if that’s true, what the fuck was I thinking? Can this be re-negotiated?

In all seriousness, though, I think I’ve been around here before. I don’t have the kind of deja vu that people with past life experiences describe, but there are just certain things I know before I have any reason to know. I definitely feel that on some level, writing is one of those things. Sometimes I feel as though it is someone else who is writing through me, if that makes any sense. Then, of course, there are those other times when I feel like there’s nobody driving the train and I’m just vomiting on paper. But that’s another story entirely.

Regardless of all that, I do really wonder how much my disconnection, and feeling that I am wanting things I can’t manaifest, is the result of having forgotten how to nurture my spirit, how to actualize my purpose. If that’s true, I guess I am not convinced that any amount of meditation and self-awareness is going to correct it.

I see things in the world that I want to change, but I know that changing them is not really my gig. I’m not powerful enough to wave a wand and manifest world peace, end poverty, and drop 60 pounds by tomorrow at noon. Can I simply employ positive thinking and *poof* problem solved? I’m thinking not.

When it comes to personal manifestation, though, maybe there is something to be said for changing one’s vibration. One of the speakers I listen to is Abraham, who is a non-physical collective channeled by a nice lady named Esther Hicks. Not sure about this channeling business, but some of what she says resonates with me. She (via Abraham) talks a lot about things having to do with believing in the outcome you’re after, and putting yourself into the emotional response of already having it. That seems to make some kind of sense to me.

Unfortunately, this model of manifestation is easier said than done. The issue of maintaining a state of gratitude is not new to me; I learned it in recovery. I was told early on that a grateful alcoholic will not drink, and that it is essential to maintain an “attitude of gratitude” if you want sobriety to be maintained. When people are discouraged, or encountering a setback, others in the program will advise them to write a gratitude list to remind themselves of how all is not lost, there is much to be grateful for. Quite often, the exercise will indeed change a mood, or at least provide a bit of a lift.

So, this business of talking myself into a different state of mind is not new, but talking myself into manifestation is a little more expansive. I’m just not sure if I don’t believe well enough, if I don’t have enough faith in myself, or if this is simply the self-manifestation I’ve brought to myself. I could drive myself insane, I suppose, if I’m not already there…doing the same thing, expecting different results?

Maybe not this time. I am diligently attempting to do some things very differently right now. It’s a bit disconcerting…there’s that discombobulation sensation again…but I’m deviating from my norms quite a bit. I’m embracing a new identity for myself, one that doesn’t involve being a mediocre technical professional who indulges in the mental masturbation of manipulating inconsequential minutia. I thought for quite a long time that I could not do without that, but I am beginning to recognize that I hadn’t become well acquainted with myself enough to be comfortable in my own skin. I feel like that’s changed a bit, so it’s fine if I don’t have the minutia to keep me company.

I’m realizing now that the minutia was mental clutter. Filling up the space, because it was kind of lonely in here. Parts of me had vacated, and I was just filling up the empty spaces and letting squatters take up space rent-free. I kind of want my space back now, because I want to expand a bit. Redecorate. Buy some permanent furniture, have friends over for coffee.

So, I guess that’s what’s up right now. I want to turn a corner, tired of being on this linear path for so long. By habit, I’ve always turned right. The conservative direction, the cautious way, tentative. Maybe this time I’ll turn left, and see what’s up around this corner. It might take a little getting used to, but I suppose I have nothing to lose. Nothing at all.

No U-turn. Don’t go there!

Published by annzimmerman

I am Louisiana born and bred, now living in Winston Salem, North Carolina. Fortunately for me, I was already living in NC before Hurricane Katrina decimated my beloved New Orleans. An only child, I now feel that I have no personal history since the hurricane destroyed the relics and artifacts of my childhood. As I have always heard, c'est la vie. My Louisiana roots show in my love of good coffee, good food, and good music. My soggy native soil has also shown me that resilience is hard-wired in my consciousness; when the chips are down (or drowned)...bring it on.

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