I was born in a town I have never been to and will never go to, in a country where I am now considered to be an alien. What got me to where I am in the world? That's what's been on my mind lately. What got me here, and what keeps me here?
When my husband was a child, his dad asked him what he thought God was. With complete conviction and without much hesitation, he answered, 'God is a frying pan'. I always thought this was such a wise, philisophical conception, especially coming from such a little boy.
Have you ever asked yourself what God is? I haven't. I consider myself an agnostic; I would like to believe in God but I just can't be fully convinced. There's the whole Darwin thing - I can't help it, when Bram climbs onto my lap or when I lift him up and I feel him cling onto me, he resembles a chimp in the most uncanny way. That we're related to monkeys is, to me, undeniable.
But I think would like it if God was a frying pan, if God had a handle I could literally hold on to and throw a couple of eggs into and fry them up. What if everything that was abstract suddenly became tangible? Emotions, hunger, peace, nationality?
You might be thinking: nationality is tangible, in the form of a passport. I can't say I agree. I am Dutch, and I am American, but I am also neither. I have a piece of paper that says I was born in the U.S, but I also have a piece of paper that says I am not a U.S. citizen. I have a piece of paper that says I am a Dutch citizen, but I don't have a drop of Dutch blood in my body. Paper says nothing.
My parents, who were both born and raised in Chicago, moved in, out and around the United States as soon as they got married in the late 60's. One of my brothers was born in Sweden, the other in California, and I was born in New York. Sometimes I think it's kind of cool, other times I find it down right ridiculous. I mean, do you know anyone who wasn't even born in the same time zone as their siblings? Me neither.
My parents paved their own road, built their own furniture by recycling and re-using, way before it was popular to do so. They were pilgrims, explorers, nomads. They still are. I have yet to see my parents settle down in one place for longer than a decennium before the itch to move on sets in. What is that itch? And more importantly, do I have it too? Can a nomadic way of life be actually passed down genetically?
It takes a lifetime to understand a lifetime, perhaps. Each day is meant to learn more about oneself. What defines a person, anyway? Heritage, career, DNA? Upbringing, experiences, culture? All of these things? None of them? Do others define you, or do you define yourself? Can someone say you are a frying pan, or are you actually one?
Is God a frying pan because I would like Him to be? Am I American because my parents want me to be? Am I an invalid because society has placed me in that category? An individual is not defined by its whereabouts or its shortcomings, but by its content. I am the product of my experiences, not just my roots or my upbringing. Individuality can be any time, any place, anywhere.
It's still tough to be me, though. Sometimes I wish I was a frying pan so others could grasp me. But nothing, not another human being, or a piece of paper, nothing can define who I am except me.
Showing posts with label me. Show all posts
Showing posts with label me. Show all posts
Saturday
My Path
A Written Self-Portrait
Today I'm thinking about the person I have become. The people in my life, the children I gave birth to, the man who married me, the environment I can finally call my own; I took these things for granted for so long. Every day, I appreciate each and every one of them. Especially when I think, I almost lost them.
When I was little, I thrived on the attention my parents and older brothers gave me. I would jump through hoops to please them, if they wanted me to. This formed me, but only for a part. The biggest part, as it turns out. Years later, I found myself trying to please others, and in doing so, placed myself at the very bottom of my list of priorities. The part of me that didn't accept this behavior got pushed further and further back, until it finally rebelled.
What happens when you deny a part of yourself? I can tell you from experience, it doesn't go away. It doesn't even diminish. It grows stronger. And things that get stronger can sometimes take over, which is what happened to me. When things were steadily going wrong in my life, and in my mind, I looked to everyone and everything else for an explanation. All along, the answer was skin deep, only I was scared to death to look beneath the surface.
I allowed the part of me I didn't want to know surface. It wasn't a choice, it was a necessity. I was suddenly confronted with a side of myself I didn't know how to handle, so it began handling me. I started to forget everything that ever meant anything to me. In order to get what it wanted, this 'other' side of me systematically began removing those things, leaving a stripped frame in its wake. It was like I was being remote-controlled, but at the same time, I was well aware of the consequences of my actions. But awareness was, like everything else that belonged in the realms of reality, pushed aside to be dealt with later. Hopefully never.
But never wasn't an option either. I was someone's wife, someone's daughter, someone's mother. I saw people slowly disappear from my life; friends became strangers, my children became a nuisance, my loved-ones got stabbed in the back, by me. I denied it, I ignored it, I persisted. And then I collapsed.
It took a long time before I felt strong enough to fight and win myself back again. It took therapy, it took medicine, and it took patience. I had to figure out why I wanted to win myself back at all - was I worth it? What was so special about me, anyway? I thought I was weak, pitiful, spineless, useless. Worst of all, I had no respect for who I really was.
Change is so easily taken for granted. Something not right? Just change it! This is next to impossible when it has to be a fundamental change, a hard-core, deep down 10,000 leagues under the sea kind of change. I had to do more than just change, I had to reinvent myself. I had to pick and choose which attributes I could keep, and which had to be disposed of. I wrote things down, I screamed out loud, I cried. The next day I would burn the words I wrote, take a vow of silence and condemn myself for crying. It was a long and arduous process, and it's a continuing process. I face it every single day.
It's difficult and it hurts, and it's worth it. I am developing one of the most important traits a person can have: integrity. It's a trait I've always admired in others, a trait I always felt I lacked. I am proud to say, I don't now. I don't believe it's something you're born with, it's something you need to earn.
I don't regret the choices I made in the most difficult period of my life till now, even the really stupid ones. That would be like saying I regret the path I chose that led me to this moment in my life. I can't change that path any more than I can change the color of grass. The choices I have made were sometimes destructive, sometimes involuntary, sometimes impossible. The path I chose is my path. When someone new steps onto it, I share my path with them, since they are now a part of it as well. No shame and no acting. Not any more.
Before me lies a multitude of choices, paths, directions - I am perched in the bow of a tree as countless branches spring out around me. I can take my pick which branch I choose to venture out upon, and it will be a positive choice. A good choice.
Today I'm thinking about the person I have become. The people in my life, the children I gave birth to, the man who married me, the environment I can finally call my own; I took these things for granted for so long. Every day, I appreciate each and every one of them. Especially when I think, I almost lost them.
When I was little, I thrived on the attention my parents and older brothers gave me. I would jump through hoops to please them, if they wanted me to. This formed me, but only for a part. The biggest part, as it turns out. Years later, I found myself trying to please others, and in doing so, placed myself at the very bottom of my list of priorities. The part of me that didn't accept this behavior got pushed further and further back, until it finally rebelled.
What happens when you deny a part of yourself? I can tell you from experience, it doesn't go away. It doesn't even diminish. It grows stronger. And things that get stronger can sometimes take over, which is what happened to me. When things were steadily going wrong in my life, and in my mind, I looked to everyone and everything else for an explanation. All along, the answer was skin deep, only I was scared to death to look beneath the surface.
I allowed the part of me I didn't want to know surface. It wasn't a choice, it was a necessity. I was suddenly confronted with a side of myself I didn't know how to handle, so it began handling me. I started to forget everything that ever meant anything to me. In order to get what it wanted, this 'other' side of me systematically began removing those things, leaving a stripped frame in its wake. It was like I was being remote-controlled, but at the same time, I was well aware of the consequences of my actions. But awareness was, like everything else that belonged in the realms of reality, pushed aside to be dealt with later. Hopefully never.
But never wasn't an option either. I was someone's wife, someone's daughter, someone's mother. I saw people slowly disappear from my life; friends became strangers, my children became a nuisance, my loved-ones got stabbed in the back, by me. I denied it, I ignored it, I persisted. And then I collapsed.
It took a long time before I felt strong enough to fight and win myself back again. It took therapy, it took medicine, and it took patience. I had to figure out why I wanted to win myself back at all - was I worth it? What was so special about me, anyway? I thought I was weak, pitiful, spineless, useless. Worst of all, I had no respect for who I really was.
Change is so easily taken for granted. Something not right? Just change it! This is next to impossible when it has to be a fundamental change, a hard-core, deep down 10,000 leagues under the sea kind of change. I had to do more than just change, I had to reinvent myself. I had to pick and choose which attributes I could keep, and which had to be disposed of. I wrote things down, I screamed out loud, I cried. The next day I would burn the words I wrote, take a vow of silence and condemn myself for crying. It was a long and arduous process, and it's a continuing process. I face it every single day.
It's difficult and it hurts, and it's worth it. I am developing one of the most important traits a person can have: integrity. It's a trait I've always admired in others, a trait I always felt I lacked. I am proud to say, I don't now. I don't believe it's something you're born with, it's something you need to earn.
I don't regret the choices I made in the most difficult period of my life till now, even the really stupid ones. That would be like saying I regret the path I chose that led me to this moment in my life. I can't change that path any more than I can change the color of grass. The choices I have made were sometimes destructive, sometimes involuntary, sometimes impossible. The path I chose is my path. When someone new steps onto it, I share my path with them, since they are now a part of it as well. No shame and no acting. Not any more.
Before me lies a multitude of choices, paths, directions - I am perched in the bow of a tree as countless branches spring out around me. I can take my pick which branch I choose to venture out upon, and it will be a positive choice. A good choice.
Tuesday
What I Look Like
Have you ever tried drawing yourself without a mirror? I did. It is the weirdest thing. You'd think you'd know your own face well enough to be able to draw it flawlessly, but my memory has obviously left me in the lurch. I tried to draw a self portrait every day the last four days in a row to see how close I could get.
Friday
Ok this looks a lot like me. I wear my hair up all the time and it's always stringy no matter how often I shower, so that was easy. Wow, I sure look perky!
Saturday
I got a little cocky after yesterday's almost perfect self-portrait. This time, I tried to draw the entire portrait with a single continuous line. End result: I don't know who this is, but it is NOT me.
Sunday
Trying one with my hair down... Is it me, or is it Steven Tyler?
Monday
Trying one with a hand to sneakily obscure the rest of my features so I wouldn't have to draw them... failed attempt.
Conclusion: I found that it is friggin impossible to draw myself without a mirror and have it look anything like me, except maybe on a Friday.
Friday
Ok this looks a lot like me. I wear my hair up all the time and it's always stringy no matter how often I shower, so that was easy. Wow, I sure look perky!
Saturday
I got a little cocky after yesterday's almost perfect self-portrait. This time, I tried to draw the entire portrait with a single continuous line. End result: I don't know who this is, but it is NOT me.
Sunday
Trying one with my hair down... Is it me, or is it Steven Tyler?
Monday
Trying one with a hand to sneakily obscure the rest of my features so I wouldn't have to draw them... failed attempt.
Conclusion: I found that it is friggin impossible to draw myself without a mirror and have it look anything like me, except maybe on a Friday.
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