Sometimes I wonder if I see this place a little differently. I’ll spare you all the existential questions…only because I’m too tired to relay them properly. But the basics that you may or may not be interested in is this:
Do we get a say?
I’ve always joked that each passing day only serves as a small step, or jolt, into life as my mother. (not that that’s a bad thing) I’ve laughed at how I pretend listen to people and how I’ve genuinely developed a passion for silence. Oh, and gardening. Growing shit gets me #turnt.
Did I use that word properly?
But what I’ve never really contemplated before were all of the habits in life I’d sworn off. I can’t deny that I have traits of my mother and father hiding somewhere behind all of the bits that make me – me, but I actively believe that we get to choose who we become. We aren’t subjected to nature’s plan.
I’ve seen a lot of heartache in my family. I’ve accepted a long time ago that people cannot always be who we wish they could be. Not everyone wants something more. Sometimes they just want for now, and you’re not always a part of that now. I’ve become okay with that over the years.
Don’t get me wrong. I still have my random breakdowns.
Like on a long flight from Baton Rouge to Charleston… somewhere around the 11C row. (Hypothetically speaking, of course)
Seeing the way addiction has taken control over so many of my loved ones is the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through in life. Especially witnessing that addiction destroy someone I admire more than words can express. Someone I know has something to live for.
I wish he knew he had a say.
When I see people I love struggle with addiction, I want to scream at them. Not in anger, but in a desperate attempt to wake them. How do they not see their life the way I see it? I want them to know this world is beautiful at times. I want them to see the joys in the little things. I want them to use the bad times merely as a juxtaposition of how effing awesome the good times are.
Occasionally, I think I just got lucky in what I had a say in… but then I remember I’ve never won anything in my life.
I have to choose to be happy on a daily basis. Sometimes I smile when I don’t want to, and laughing is harder than letting the vices of this world overcome me. Still, every now and then, there is something that lets me know I was meant to experience all this so that I can be whole. So that I am forced to know myself, and I’m forced to appreciate the little things and the people around me who make them not so little.
2 thoughts on “Thinking for the Thoughtless”
Cap, I’m reading this now for the first time. I’ve felt – and often feel – the same way. Someone once told me that whatever my story is, it’s good. Because whatever life has put me through, it developed in me the unique ability to empathize with people who struggle and to recognize their pain and disappointment. Being able to connect with people – rich, poor, smart, dumb, addicts or not – means never seeing the world from our own window; it means we always have the benefit of seeing the world the way others see it as well. We can see the joy in the suffering and the bad in the good. For that, I’m forever grateful.
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Leah, I feel the same way. Sometimes I get frustrated with the things we had to deal with growing up, and still manage now… but I know that it shaped us into who we are today. (as cliche as that sounds) ❤