You’re Not Exempt

You know what really rubs me the wrong way? When people comment about something you said as though you can’t have an opinion on the subject because you don’t fit a certain category.

A short list of this includes:

• “being the single friend who gives advice to a friend in a relationship”
• “commenting on ‘parenting techniques’ even though you’re childless”

Now I get folks’ concerns and there is that general notion of “you don’t understand because you are not in the situation.” However, MOST people who get upset about what you have to say fall into one of two categories: people who do horribly at whatever task is in question OR people who ask for (good) advice and refuse to take it.

I’ve had the opportunity to observe people and I consider myself a pretty good judge of character. Most other folks consider me a good judge of character as well because they ask for my thoughts. What offends me the most is being brushed off with a “you don’t get it” because I really don’t understand, condone, encourage or write off shitty behavior.

And there are TONS of people who engage in shitty behavior and habits who HATE being called out about this.

Now, I’m not saying that you are a horrible person if you aren’t a good partner/spouse or parent. No, I’m just saying that you’re not that good at that particular task and if multiple people point out the same thing, it really isn’t them…it really is you. You’re not exempt from critique because I’d like to think that most people who offer it up do so because they want you to be better. Yet, in this age of hyper-criticism and “I’m better than you because I have edges,” folks do not want to believe that they can be critiqued. This is especially true on social media platforms.

While I believe that people shouldn’t criticize others, I will say that if you happen to be a highly critical person, you should definitely expect it. Just because you think you are the bees-knees, you should know that you are not exempt from criticism.

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Impressions of Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
-William Ernest Henley

Have you ever heard something that touched you at your core? I have. It’s always how I feel when I read this poem, it becomes personal.

In all my years of reading it (since I was 15 to be precise – thank you “Bat Shit Crazy” English teacher), I’m reminded of the will to keep going, often during times where everything else in me has given up. Where does that need to move forward and become better come from? I’m not sure but many people share the belief that it is from a Source more powerful than ourselves. An outside force, if you will.

But I’d like to believe that it comes from a memory.

In this day and age of competition and achievement, people of my generation (Generation Y, I believe) have been pushed to be all that we can be. We must be excellent at everything that we do and success is measured by some imaginary, and often unfair, metric that was around for our parents and grandparents.

“Grow up. Be smart. Earn great grades. Be athletic. Be well-rounded. Go to college. Graduate and get a job. Everyone can do this but you will have to do it amazingly well AND in a way that makes everyone around you comfortable.”

But what if what inspires your soul makes everyone uncomfortable? That’s what I think about now when I read that poem.

For 27 years, I’ve been groomed and meticulously conditioned to play the game using conventional rules. This is the way to “success.” But like so many of my peers, I’m disconnected. Success, to me, isn’t what it is to everyone.

Success to me is happiness. And happiness to me means that I’m comfortable and not triggered by situations that will lead to my depression. I’ve been there before and I hate going back.

Because when you’re covered in darkness, you’re never really happy. Lately, I’ve come to change my stance that depression is darkness. Instead darkness for me has been the dimming of my dream to meet the expectations (and comfort levels) of others. I move forward now and adversity is no longer an exercise that I liken to strength training. It just is and I been busy reteaching myself a spiritual truth – I am in control of my destiny.

This post is just a short post…a letter (or plea) to others like me. Let your soul wake up & let passion be your guide as you walk these roads in life. For it is the only thing that will let you be the Master of Your Fate and Captain of Your Soul.

Cracked Mirrors and Broken Reflections (#31WriteNow)

Yesterday was hard.

There really isn’t any other way to describe it. I spent most of my day curled up in a ball and sleeping sitting up (at the same damn time). Some people know this about me and others don’t — I have an autoimmune disorder that for the better part of seven years has wrecked my life. And yesterday I was in pain.

To the point that my temperature would spike and I’d get dizzy and black out.

Yesterday was hard.

It was one of those days that I wanted to worry about ME ONLY and yet, other people’s shit still crept into my space. We had a relative that died (who told them to do that?!) and now we’re traveling out of town (do I really have to be there?). My Brother called me with his problems (say Slim…I don’t care and I can’t help you) and my Dad called me with what was bothering him (can’t you call someone else?). It got to the point that I turned my ringer off and just went to Twitter.

Yesterday was hard.

You see…Twitter is this weird coping thing for me. I don’t like my life currently (everything is bleak — but I’m having an episode so this could pass in a day or two) and I pretty much hate everything about myself (are other women losing their hair and their intestines are causing their abdomen to swell? I want to lose weight…why can’t I KEEP THIS SHIT OFF?!?!). I’m in between jobs and I run a small business (why can’t people respect ME as a business owner? They don’t barter the price of food at Whole Foods or Winn Dixie?) and I don’t know where my next meal is coming from or how the bills are going to get paid (my Life Coach tells me not to worry but other people rely on me).

Yesterday was hard.

So I went on Twitter. To cope. And Twitter made me mad (people are not as funny as they think they are). So I put my phone down after turning on music (I love this song “The One” but I don’t think of anyone when I listen to it. Will I always be alone?). After listening to the music play softly, I fell asleep. For a few hours and I was grateful.

After saying out loud, “Today was hard,” I just want to go to sleep.

And get up to a better tomorrow.

My life just feels wrong. And I’m tired of looking at a broken reflection in a cracked mirror.