Don’t Blame Me

Love is energy. That energy circulates and moves through all living things and us humans, in the constant rhythm of our breaths and our heartbeats. Pretty reliable markers over the course of a lifetime. When we are children, we are taught we need to plant the “right” seeds, then stand up as adults, work hard, and watch our lives grow. Of course, everyone gets different seed packets: in the guise of different genders, talents, geographic locations, physical gifts, inherited experience, race, aptitudes, innate knowledge, and the circumstances of our births. We’re human and malleable, especially when we are children. We need to belong and be loved so we listen to who our families tell us we are. Many families have very definite ideas about your “ideal” life path though it may be radically different from your own inner desires and direction. We all know lawyers who wanted to open a bar or be commercial airline pilots. Doctors who really wanted to be farmers and company CEOs who might have been stay-at-home mothers had that been an acceptable option. We all make decisions based on what we know and what we learn along life’s path. In my family, my mother was convinced I should become an influential and powerful public figure. My Dad – by contrast – thought that I would be better off as a wife and mother and that pursuing a university degree was a waste of time and money. I completely let him down by earning three. You can only grow from the level you are at any given time of your life. Babies, for example, are not expected to understand mathematics or physics. That anyone can at any age, of course, is an utter mystery to me. “Adulthood”  arrives at the moment you start listening to your own heart’s desires and begin moving your life in a direction of your own making. Countless numbers of people are willing to cash in on our innate insecurities. It can be a moment of crisis when we wake up and start to shake off the labels and expectations that have been placed on us throughout our lives.  Because each one of us is utterly unique, there is no “one size fits all.” When we decide to seek meaning and direction in our own lives “our way,” we have to carve out our own path. I tire easily of the fashion and cosmetic industries that assure us women that our self-worth and belonging is guaranteed “if only” we buy their products (and give them a five-star rating on Yelp!) I am tired of so-called experts who try to sell me their version of “the way, the truth, and the life.” This approach can only make sense in a capitalist society that has lost a deep sense of community and lauds individual achievement over the collective power of joining our gifts and talents to work together. So making that often jerky turn toward adulthood often comes down to self-determination and a lot of courage. When people can no longer abide the internal disconnect between who they really are, lives can change radically. Marriages collapse. Businesses fail. Abused children turn their backs on the parents who had ground them down from birth. Adulthood is taking personal responsibility. Responsibility for everything that happens to us, what we do, and the choices we made regardless of how badly misguided or uninformed we were. That means blame is out of the question. There may, indeed, have been negative incidents and forces that shaped you. Blame won’t fix it. It will only perpetuate it and stultify the process of making your own life better. Our focus must turn from trying to find someone or something to “fix us” and stepping up to “fix ourselves.” The answers are already deep inside. We need to encourage that small, still voice and learn to listen to it. We need to consciously train our energy on the good things in our lives and work to eliminate what is bad or “doesn’t serve us.” Such has been my relationship with words. External voices and expectations drowned the seeds of my creativity. They were much more comfortable ingesting the pablum I wrote for money. My energies were focused for far too long on keeping a lid on and suppressing me and my voice. The one I knew I had to develop. Not anymore. Who’s with me?