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.

Always Look on the Bright Side of Life

After years of therapy, I have finally come to the terms with the fact that I am a fundamentally good-natured person. Even when I am experiencing what most people would consider a major downer, I can always somehow arch my neck over whatever emotional obstacle may lie in front of me to catch a glimpse of that, in my view, ever-present bright side.

Here's a perfect example: after that car hit me in the middle of the summer six years ago, I was lying in the street with a bashed-up knee, multiple bruising and fractures, open wounds and the beginnings of a deep-rooted psycological trauma, and I remember thinking to myself: 'Well, at least it's not raining'.

I have often get the impression that people don't really trust a happy person. Someone who is smiling and positive is generally thought of as someone without conviction, it seems. This is odd to me, that people tend to have more faith in irritable people with little good to say about anything at all than someone with a smile on their face. When I meet someone for the first time, I make it a point to be in good spirits, I'll even beam (if it's appropriate). Maybe I've been reading too many Brontë novels, but I really do think it's important to be amiable and pleasant in any social situation, especially during a first impression. Why should anyone else have to suffer from the fact that I'm having a 'bad hair day'?

Don't get me wrong, I can definitely get pissed when absolutely necessary, and I posess my own rather lengthy list of pet peeves, just like anyone else. When I hear the latest reports about the world-wide financial crisis and that thousands of people are being evicted from their homes, of course I find it unsettling, and would rather think of something else. It's not easy to see the bright side of that situation, but as soon as I find one, I'll let you know!

But being good-natured isn't the same as being ignorant! It's just somehow easier for me to point out the silver lining in most situations than it is for me to join the bad-mood bandwagon, so to speak. Any situation in which you find yourself having to wait will confirm it - people love to complain. Whether it's about the weather, or the current price of gas per liter, or the political situation at the moment, people can find an abundance of issues to be negative about.

Sure, if you're waiting for a doctor's appointment, you'll most likely hear people complain. That's a no-brainer. I remember once in an uncomfortably silent and overcrowded waiting room at the doctor's, a man came in and saw another man he knew. He said 'Hey! How are you?' To which the other man replied 'Well, terrible. That's why I'm here.' After which more uncomfortable silence ensued. Now, I am not saying the man should've deceived his friend, not to mention everyone in the waiting room, by saying he felt great, since that would indeed be a big fat lie. Being good-natured isn't the same as lying! If that man had been me, I might've said 'Well, I feel terrible, that's why I'm here. But at least I'm still alive!' or, maybe, 'But at least they've got some new magazines to read! Have you read this article about New Zeeland?'

Recently, when my mother-in-law came to pick me up from the hospital after my operation, she walked in the door and said 'How are you feeling?' Then, when she saw the undoubtedly cheerful expression on my face, quickly added 'Now, don't say you're feeling good!' But, I'm almost ashamed to admit, I was feeling good! Even though it was no day in the park, the operation had gone smoothly. And although I still couldn't feel my own ass due to the anasthesia, I was able to stand, and my bladder was working properly again. And, after waiting all day in that starched and uncomfortable hospital bed in a place where there was a constant aroma of iodine mixed with urine, I was thrilled to see her and finally be going home! So yes, despite the situation, I was feeling good!

Seriously, though, I must be a real pain in the butt to those around me with my infinite positive outlook on life. My husband, I'm sure, wants to toss me out the window sometimes. If we get stuck in traffic on a hot day, he'll react like any other human being and curse every possible cause for the jam, while I will find it irresistable to mention the fact that at least we've got air-co. And if the kids wake up several times in the night, depriving us both of sleep, he'll react with natural dismay and annoyance, while I'll probably say something to the effect of 'Oh, we're going to miss these times when they move out one day!' And if we run out of coffee, he will understandably use a wide assortiment of swear words to express his emotions on the subject, while I'd probably mention the bright side of the situation again by saying something to the effect of...um...well, let's face it, like the financial crisis, there simply is no bright side to that situation either.

So, you see, there are some situations where my positivity is overpowered by negative influences over which I have no control. Something I saw recently on TV confirmed this: the new Alldays maxi-pad commercial. I seriously don't know who invents these commercials, but this one really rubbed me the wrong way. As most women know, almost every ad for feminine hygiene products is far-fetched, but this one was simply ludicrious. For some reason beyond my comprehension, some advertising ignoramous thought little animated bumper cars driving over the surface of a maxi-pad was a metaphore all women could relate to during their monthly menstruations. But the worst part, the worst part of all, was the slogan at the end.

It said...(I can barely type the words...)

'Have a happy period.'

Have a what period?!

First of all, the words 'happy' and 'period' should never, I repeat never, be used in the same sentence. Or paragraph. Or even on the same day. And even the mere implication that a woman could even manage to have a happy period is like wishing someone a fun labotomy, or a really super root canal. I can only surmise that anyone who would dream of wishing any woman on God's green earth a happy period clearly has never had one himself. I say 'himself' because I can only assume a mind behind so absurd a campaign must be male. It's the only plausable explanation. At least I hope so. If a woman had come up with that slogan, we might have to find her and ostracize her, girls.

So you see, even a fundamentally good-natured person like me sometimes can't be oblivious to negative influences, nor resist the urge to rant about them now and again. That's why I started this blog in the first place! Just like a good meal, when stuff goes in, it eventually has to come out...it's the same with the stimuli of everyday life! I found, the best way to deal with it all is a healthy dose of self-examination and heaps of humour. Oh, and a good shrink. But there's that bright side again: I may be in therapy, but at least I'm not in advertising!

Dog People vs Cat People

I live outdoors, which means I am constantly encountering various types of foliage, wild animals and dog poop. In general, people who live outdoors consider it a requirement to get a dog, or so it would seem. All our neighbors have one. We thought about getting one, but as it turns out, we're Cat People.

It's a well-known fact that there are Cat People and Dog People in the world, and they have to live together on earth in peace and harmony. This is not always an easy thing to do when the fundamental differences in Cat People and Dog People are so substantial and numerous. Cat People essentially do their own thing, live and let live and enjoy a good cuddle once in a while. Dog People tend to say things like 'Oh no, my dog never barks' or 'Oh no, my dog never poops in your yard' or 'Oh don't be scared, he's just playing'. To all these remarks, I am supposed to feel ashamed. I obviously must have problems with my ears if I think the dog is barking, and problems with my eyesight if I see a pile of poop in my yard that I did not make myself. And, of course, I should know when a dog the size of a small horse growling at my crotch area is 'just playing'! You see, Dog People assume Cat People are also Dog People, which is partly where the problem lies. 

Because we live in an attractive, spacious area, people enjoy taking walks around here, and more often than not, they have dogs with them. These people believe the outdoors is a place where dog feces just magically disappears or instananeously biodegrades, so when their dog squats in our driveway, they make no effort to stop it since our driveway is just about the prettiest dog toilet they've ever seen. There's really no point in explaining why I don't especially want to tread through their dog's droppings when I get into my car, since more often than not these people don't even speak the same language as I do. Or they pretend not to. They must not be fluent in Cat.

But these are merely tourists, the Dog People we have to contend with on a daily basis are a different story alltogether. Our neighbor, for example, already had a dog when he moved in next door, which he mistakingly assumed would blend into the atmosphere, lose all its annoying dog-like qualities and become one with the quiet woodsy environment. When our neighbor left for work every morning at around 6am, his dog, a spunky little Jack Russel called Sita, would begin to howl and bark non-stop until he returned home again at around 6pm. 

After a few weeks of this sort of behavior, we realized Sita was not simply practising her dog scales and that it was time to speak up. To our surprise, our neighbour refused to believe us - he claimed his dog just 'wasn't the barking type'! Fortunately we didn't have to provide proof, he finally took our rather persistent word for it. So poor Sita was locked indoors while our neighbor went to work, and even then we could hear her tearing up the couch and scratching the doors to pieces. Not long after that, Sita moved out. We found out later she ended up with our neighbor's mother, the only one who could tolerate her, or perhaps the only one with indestructable furniture.

Our neighbor then became a Dog Person who lives outdoors without a dog, which wasn't really allowed in Dog People circles. So, it wasn't long before he got himself a new one, a Border Collie pup. This time, he was going to go to obedience school and was determined to do things right. Maybe he wanted to prove to us, whom he saw as representatives of Cat People around the country, that he could own a dog and that we would essentially never even know it exists.

Our neighbor attended obedience school for a little while, but the puppy was about as non-existant as hemmoroids on a truck driver. It barked, howled, destroyed, and tried to mate with just about anything that threw a shadow. It was clear our neighbor needed to find a solution, so he got another dog. It was a logical move for a Dog Person, undoubtedly, but we Cat People just couldn't comprehend. According to our neighbor, spending a few hundred euro on another dog, which was a couple years older and more experienced, was a good investment because it would 'teach' the puppy how to behave. Needless to say, neither dog nor neighbor managed to stick around for long. I personally believe both dogs probably tore up his furniture so badly he didn't have a bed to sleep on anymore. I felt sorry for our neighbor's mother, who had probably hoped her son would be bringing her grandchildren over instead of a variety of badly behaved canines...

Another neighbor and his wife are both retired and have bred every sort of animal known to man in the decades they've lived outdoors. They are tough people, who can deal with livestock and build things and chop things. Now that they're retired, they must have had a visit from the LPDPLO, (The League of Potential Dog People Living Outdoors) demanding to know why they didn't have a dog yet. They didn't waste any time in adopting one, a chihuahua called Luigi. I can't imagine a more unsuitable choice of canine in these parts. In the damp forest conditions, Luigi has to wear little sweaters all the time, shakes uncontrollably and is so rodent-like, you'd mistake him for a rat if you put him on the ground. Luigi isn't let for a walk, he's carried. I always wonder if, after he's put on the ground to do his business, how difficult it is to find him again. Or if a rat might try to elope with him one day when one of my neighbor's isn't looking. A Dog Person once told me, when you want to get a dog, you don't choose the dog, the dog chooses you. I guess that really is true. 

There are also Dog People living on the corner near us. We have to pass their property to get to our house, which means we pass it at least twice daily. They moved in a couple years after we did, and have a little white lap dog called Rakker. Although I am a Cat Person, I completely get the concept of a dog protecting one's owner, and yet it annoys me greatly when I try to go home, and Rakker appears out of nowhere and barks and chases me along his owner's fence until I have passed and supposedly am no longer a threat. In whatever mode of transport, the second I move into the vicinity of Rakker's owner's property, he sees me as the thing that could destroy his owner and render him as head security guard virtually useless. 

At first, I took Rakker's behavior personally, until I discovered he did this to everyone and everything that passed his owner's property. A bird, a rabbit, a cat, a pinecone falling out of a tree, all were seen as potential perpetrators, capable of inflicting harm on his owner. Sometimes, the owner is around when Rakker barks and chases, and when he approaches, I find myself expecting some sort of explanation. It's always the same: 'You're on his territory!' the owner will say teasingly. 'His territory, eh? Since when?' I want to ask. Sometimes the owner will suggest I pet Rakker, to show him I mean no harm. The idea of extending my hand anywhere near that snarling little thing is undeniably absurd, seeing as if he is capable of sensing my emotions (by means of telepathy, I assume), he would no doubt sense my pure desire to do him a great deal of harm and would probably chomp off my hand. Not a risk I'm willing to take.

Seeing as it's impossible to continue a conversation above Rakker's frenzied barking and jumping up against the chain-link fence, the owner and I don't usually stand around and chat. The fact that I am so close to his owner and could injure him at any moment is Rakker's main concern, so by that point I usually just get out of there. I want to say: 'I was here first, buddy', but this would make no impression on Rakker. Another battle lost. Dog Person: one, Cat Person: zero.

If you think Cat People think: 'We might lose the battle, but we'll win the war', you'd be mistaken. Yet another essential difference between Cat People and Dog People that will most likely remain so until the end of time is that Cat People tolerate and Dog People crusade. A Cat Person will never try to convince you that a cat is better than a dog, but a Dog Person will go to great lengths to convince you why a dog is next to holy. And they'll go even further than that by insisting a dog doesn't stink, drool or hump your leg at inappropriate moments. 

The war has been won, and Cat People around the world have succumbed long ago. They don't care, all they want is a good cuddle now and then.