Isolation is Normal?
Over the course of the last week, I’ve noticed something of a pattern when it comes to most people. The majority of those that I’ve come into contact with, aside from family, are uncomfortable with closeness, human contact, even the words, “I love you.” And I have to wonder, why is that?
I’m an affectionate person by nature most of the time, I’ll say, “I love you” as freely as “Pass the salt,” hug strangers, even touch a person while I’m speaking to (in a fitting way, that is).
When I was a child, around five or six, I was best friends with a girl a year younger than I. She lived across the street from me and we would play together nearly every day. On one occasion, before saying good-bye, I gave her a hug, a kiss on the cheek and said, “I love you!” She, seeming disgusted, pushed me away, called me gross and avoided me for the rest of that week.
On another occasion, when I was twelve getting my ears pierced for the third time, I hugged the woman who was piercing my ears as a way of saying thank you. She drew back momentarily, then quickly hugged me, seeming altogether frazzled.
Two years ago, when I had my first job, I would to hug my manager to say good-bye before leaving work every day. The first few times, she (my manager) flinched, seeming incredibly uncomfortable, and would only briefly embrace me, then pat my back and gesture for me to leave.
That’s only a handful of my experiences, but here’s the thing I don’t understand, why do we live in a society wherein a person can’t give someone a hug, say “I love you” or show any real form of affection and care without being judged or frowned upon?
Honestly, is it true that most people see human contact as sexual because of what is commonly displayed in the media? Have people really become so inundated with what’s broadcasted by American society that they can’t tell the difference between a friendly hug and a pass made due to sexual attraction? Is it so difficult today for people to see each other as simply human? Are people so superficial that even the remote implication that caring about each other has been lost completely?
Let’s be honest, when was the last time you hugged someone you didn’t know? Smiled and waved at a stranger? Sat with someone who appeared to be having a difficult time? Or even had a genuine conversation with a person that you do know, just out of sheer interest in what is happening in their lives? Have you done any of that recently? Why, or why not?
Pursue Past the Pain
Lately I’ve been thinking, how does tragedy really affect people? Does everyone truly grow past it, or do some people get emotionally stuck? Do some people stay in the same mindset that they were in during the first happening; reliving the heartache over and over? The simple answer to that is yes. And recently, I realized that I was one of those people.
When I was twelve years old, my parents separated, not legally; my father left my family altogether and four years later, they divorced. It hasn’t even been a year since their divorce, but in some ways, I noticed that I still felt like the sad little girl who just wanted her parents to stay together. It’s odd because my father has never been a prominent figure in my life, in fact, he ignored me, but I still wanted him around because I knew my mother loved him. Abusive and unkind or not, he was still my father and while he didn’t like me, nor I him, he was still apart of the family.
Now, at the age of seventeen, I find myself feeling determined. Determined to succeed, despite the hurtful things my father did or said–despite the things anyone has ever said to discourage and/or hurt me. Unfortunately, not everyone had a life as I have with one solid parent who refused to let them fall apart–when it came to anything.
To better explain my point, I recall one event when I was about fourteen, still mourning over all that had happened with my father leaving my mother, two of my siblings moving out and rejecting me, my mother and my other brother, leaving the house I’d spent the last twelve years in and plenty of other things that I couldn’t even talk about yet, when my mother looked at me and said, “You are not allowed to fall apart.” Confused and still upset, I just gave her a look that meant, “What do you mean I can’t fall apart?” Knowing me well enough to decipher my facial expressions, she repeated “You just can’t, you don’t have the time to.”At that time, I was more hurt by everything else that was going on to truly understand why she said that and on some level, I just thought she was being insensitive, but I get it now. Three years later, no less, but I do understand and that’s what’s important.
You can’t allow the things that other people do prevent you from going where you need to in life. No matter what happens, pursue your dreams, grow past the unwise things that people do and understand that everything is going to be okay. Even if you’ve hit rock bottom in your life and have no one there for you, know that the universe is knitting and re-knitting itself together and lining things up for the best things that you can fathom.
A Little Blog Lovin’
Recently, I was given the honor of nomination by a fellow WordPress blogger of a Liebster Blog Award http://realityinprogress.wordpress.com/2012/04/11/a-little-love/.
Being it is that I’ve never been nominated for an award (until recently) for my blog, my understanding of the rules are a little sketchy. Since I’m probably not the only one who is unaware of the precise actions one ought to take upon receiving of an award, the rules are listed as follows:
The Liebster Blog Award Rules:
1.Thank your Liebster Blog Award presenter on your blog.
2. Link back to the blogger who presented the award to you.
3. Copy and paste the blog award on your blog.
4. Present the Liebster Blog Award to 5 blogs of 200 followers or less who you feel deserve to be noticed.
5. Let them know they have been chosen by leaving a comment at their blog.
Here are some blogs that I greatly enjoy and I hope you’ll find them just as inspiring and/or humorous as I do. 🙂 Take a look at them here:
1. http://sarapey.wordpress.com/
3. http://pccadvantage.wordpress.com/
4. http://keepingcourage.wordpress.com/
5. http://undefinedhopes.wordpress.com/
Check them out–and subscribe to them if you haven’t already! 🙂
Brave or Benighted?
Recently, I was cleaning the refrigerator with the help of my older brother when we came across a few ambiguous food items. As usual, my brother passed me a container of food and said, “Hey Kris, smell this,” and not thinking any better, I did as he asked.
Now, here’s the thing, the food looked relatively normal, smelled ever so slightly questionable, but I still wasn’t entirely certain. I smelled the food a second time, then a third, and finally, I tasted it to give me a fitting answer. The curried lentils that were once oh-so-delicious were now rotten and very distasteful to say the least. Needless to say, I spat the stew out into the garbage can and followed it with several mouthfuls of palatable food and a glass of water.
This is not the first time I’ve done this with leftovers from the fridge. Seven out of ten times the food has been fine and yet, the few times the food has been disgustingly horrid have not stopped me from testing by taste and not odor. The funny thing is, my albeit temerarious behavior has earned me the title of “brave.”
Later that day I found myself thinking, how brave and intelligent was it really for me to taste the food as opposed to utilizing the adage, “When in doubt, throw it out,”? In hindsight, I’ll say I should have thrown the food out; however, then I would have said, “How am I supposed to know whether or not it’s still good if I don’t taste it?”
The line between being courageous and being unwise for some people is blurred. Not just applying to the freshness of food, but I find that gallant acts must not only be decided by the feasibility of the action, but also the possibility of an unpleasant taste.
Sci-Fi Nut With Hidden Agenda
For as far back as I can remember, I’ve loved science fiction. When I was a kid, I used to sit and watch the Sci-Fi Channel on television for hours at a time and sometimes all day long. Star Wars, Star Trek, The X Files, Xena: Warrior Princess, Scare Tactics, Alphas, Ghost Hunters, Fact or Faked, Battlestar Galactica and plenty of other shows that I can’t recall the titles of anymore. Presently, I don’t watch anywhere near as much television as I used to, but I must admit I still love science fiction just as much. I read science fiction novels and spend about three hours a week watching it (generally over the course of three to four days).
Since January of last year, I’ve been watching an American remake of a British science fiction series called Being Human. I tried watching the original version, but I find it less interesting. Not to say that I don’t enjoy British television (I watched a great deal of that in my youth as well); however, I find the American remake less redundant in terms of camera angle usage (I have an older brother who is cinema savvy and I now lack the ability to watch a poorly directed film anymore).
There has been something of a running gag about me, saying that the only reason why I watch Being Human is because Canadian actress Meaghan Rath plays a major role in the show. Of course it’s well-known that I’m too much of a science fiction addict to let an attractive actress be the sole driving force of my viewership; however, I won’t say that doesn’t add to it. 😉
With a face as adorable as this one, can you blame me?
Truth be told, I watch the show for the special effects, engrossing plotline, Montreal scenery and impressive cinematography. Even if the actors and actresses looked like undead zombified trolls after they’ve been dragged through seven miles of broken glass, I would still watch the show. Why? Because I like it. The show is awesome and I hope the ratings stay as positive as they are now to keep it on the air.
P.S. I must apologize to you dear reader(s) for this change in my posts. Generally, I post meaningful things; but considering the clock has ticked past midnight and the only thing I can hear is the abrading sound of my neighbor’s snoring, my somewhat sleep deprived self had to let you into the strange recesses of my teenaged mind. My next post will be more relevant to life. I promise. I can also promise that I’ll think back on this very soon and say to myself, “What the heck was I thinking? Why on Earth did I post that?”
If You Love Me, Why Do You Hurt Me?
How do you handle it when someone you love keeps doing things that hurt you? You’re uncertain if they’re doing this intentionally or not, but you know that it keeps happening and you’d much rather that it not. Part of you wants to leave, but you love the person so much that at the same time, you don’t want to go. What should you do when you love someone dearly and they won’t stop harming you? That has happened to me, and to be quite honest, I think that might vary by circumstance, but it all boils down to the same answer.
My mother used to tell me that, “Hurting people hurt other people.” And I think I understand this idea more now than I did back then. I used to think, “Yeah, sure, I get that, but why do they have to hurt me?” Recently I learned the answer; the people that are hurting you may not realize it, and even if they do, they don’t truly know any other way to handle what is hurting them. Think of it this way: have you ever seen an injured animal? And the more someone tries to help it, the more the animal lashes out. It’ll scratch, bite, kick, etc., just because it’s in pain. It’s like that.
As the person who is being hurt by the individual who is in pain (even if they are unaware of it), you have to forgive them for it and love them anyway. If you cannot handle them lashing out, then you have to be the bigger person, and remove yourself from the situation. It’s easier said than done, as many things are, but it’s possible–I’ve done it before.
What is it About Love?
What is it about interpersonal relationships that makes us behave so irrationally? Why do we dedicate ourselves so fully to a single person? Giving everything we can possibly fathom to someone who may or may not take care of it? Some of us try to “save” our hearts from ever becoming so involved in everything about another person. Unfortunately, love tends to sneak up on us when we least expect it and take up extended residency in our hearts. Doesn’t it? I think it does.
Supposed To Be
This past week, I was having a conversation with a good friend of mine. During this conversation, they said something to me that sparked a thought: they told me what I am supposed to be and what I’m supposed to like. Now, I’ve been blessed enough that most of the time, people don’t tell me who I am or what I should/should not like. There have been a few exceptions here an there, but for the most part, I can’t say I’ve given any real attention.
That made me think, how can anyone tell me what I’m supposed to be or what I should like/dislike? It’s my opinion and personal preference, shouldn’t I be the one in charge of that? Unfortunately, the world tries to tell you that you’re not. I just want to make one thing clear, you can’t let anyone–and I mean anyone–tell you who or what you should be as a person. You are an individual, a unique creation that is perfect just the way you are.
Whether or not you fit the criteria of what society says you should be or not doesn’t matter. Everyone is different and society is filled with generalizations and stereotypes that don’t always apply. The world is going to try to tell you who you are and what you should or shouldn’t be, but it’s your job as an individual to stand up and tell the world who you truly are.
Leaving Apathy
Greetings blogosphere! I know I’ve been neglecting my weekly postings, but there’s a perfectly feasible reason for that; I haven’t had much to say. I like to use my blog as an outlet for the things I learn and observe in life, as well as sharing small anecdotes along the way. I can’t exactly say blog-worthy things are happening as much as they used to, but as of recently I’ve had a series of epiphanies and as the writer that I am, I’ve nothing to do except share it with you, my lovely readers.
The past two weeks have been a combination of emotional strain and thoughtless expression. To be quite frank, I’ve been speaking less and feeling more; introverted, if you will. Life seemed to have turned sour in more ways than I could count and I felt like I just wanted it all to end. I won’t go into the lengthy details of everything that has occurred, but I will say that I believe the universe is trying to teach me multiple lessons and only now am I seeing that.
For this week’s bit of my consciousness, I’ll share with you something that I’m sure on some level I already knew, but must have forgotten somewhere along the way. I realized that had been allowing bad memories to hinder things that I really would love to do. In some way, I was living in the past–replaying all of the horrible things that I’ve experienced and let me tell you now, there have been quite a few things.
Imagine yourself smaller–the size of an insect to be precise–and you’ve been living in a sealed jar for a very long time. You know the jar is sealed because you can see the lid above and in the past, every time you figured out a way to attempt an escape, you smashed into the lid. Naturally, you’ve given up the hope of escaping the jar and now you sit at the bottom, living your life insect-sized. You don’t even look up to the lid or think of escape tactics anymore.
Without your knowledge someone removed the lid of the jar but never told you that you had the freedom to escape whenever you wished to. Would you notice the lid wasn’t on the jar? And if you did would you try to escape, or just continue living in the jar where you’re comfortable?
To explain the above analogy, for a few years I seem to have been living the jar, so to speak, where I had grown comfortable–even though the lid was gone. It’s funny because I used to be the kind of person who would try and try and try to go forward and do more, but it seems that I grew apathetic due to not wanting to fight for something that I couldn’t yet accomplish. Needless to say, I’ll be moving out of my comfort zone…again.
Body Art
I’m a big fan of body art. Tattoos, piercings; bodily adornment for the pure sake of artistic expression and creativity. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not referring to the people that cover themselves in tattoos from head to toe and pierce their bodies in so-called “strange” places, or alter their physical appearance to the extent that they don’t look human. While that’s an art form in itself, I’m referring to the slight adjustments that are used to decorate oneself. The minor things that decorate the body.
Fortunately, I’ve been blessed with a parent that is supportive of my appreciation for this art form and encourages it–in fact, the person in question (my mom) introduced me to it at a very young age. I remember being three or four years old seeing my mom come home with freshly bandaged tattoos or a piercing in a new place. Granted, she doesn’t have most of those piercings anymore, but the tattoos are still there (plus a few more) and the memories are still fresh in my mind.
I’m saying all of this because recently, as a late birthday gift, my mom let me get my ears pierced. It wasn’t my first time; it was actually the fourth. I first had my ears pierced when I was three, at my request. Then, when I was eleven, I asked my mom to let me get my ears pierced again; initially with the intention to get my cartilage pierced, but I wasn’t old enough. So, instead, I had my ear lobes pierced a second time. Then, for my twelfth birthday, I got the cartilage in my right ear pierced twice. Now, at seventeen, I sport a total of eight holes in my ears; five in my right ear and three in my left–and I’m not finished yet. I still plan to get a tragus piercing or two, should my ears grow large enough to accommodate the extra metal. That’s about it–as far as my ears go, that is. I still have more of my body left to decorate. 😉
Thankfully, I haven’t gotten much negative reception for the jewelry I sport. In fact, I’ve had people inquire about it–asking if it hurt, healing time, where I went, etc. More often than not, people that notice the holes in my ears are surprised that I have a parent that let me do it to begin with. I just like to say that I’m blessed in that manner.
In short, I love body art and I see myself as a human canvas, begging to be further decorated. And I am very glad that I have a mother who encourages such musings.
poetsthoughts 