So I was trying to do a non-recap "recap" of the last ten years of my life (well, actually closer to twelve now) in the previous entry, but I just can't! I mean, it's not that I don't want to finish it and I would love to have a "short" way for people to know just exactly the compaction of traumatic events to unfold in the early years of my adulthood, BUT... I can only write a bullet or two per addition before I have to stop. It's just too hard. Too hard to remember all that stuff. All the stuff no one seems to give a shit about (well, not "no one", but never the ones that you think it will matter to); and anyway, they just all want you to put it away because nobody can deal with negative stuff anymore. All the stuff that was too hard to tell in the first place, to relive, to plague people's poor ears (eyes) with. Too hard to remember and try to recall the order of events (because they did all blur together) things that pained (and still pain) my soul with the sorrow of a thousand molten poker jabs. Things, lots of things, I could do nothing about or was too lazy-minded to figure out or too naive or too overwhelmed to put together. I could never compare to someone who has used drugs or had family members abuse drugs or suffered things like rape, molestation, assault, death--but how is it that I can feel their pain? Understand that deeply-rooted core of despair and sorrow? Well, just read my last entry to know that all of its contents count for a summary of no more than two years, and that there is at least as much on the other end (the 3rd to 7th years inclusive) to supplement the already-made clusterphuck of poor decision-making and just bad luck of the initial two.
There is a reason (or several, maybe) for why I had to grow the way I was forced to grow. I can think of a few right off the top of my head. To relate to people unequivocally, for one. To identify with pain and be a guide to help those out of it, for another. Those being super heavy reasons at best still might not be the total package. I mean I'm not saying I am destined for some fantastic, enigmatic... thing. I'm saying that I get the feeling that even though it's just enough for me to help people and reach out in the most loving way I can, I still feel like there's a reason God conditioned me like, well, a sword in the fire. Damn those biblical references, anyway. I love the idea of being an advocate for love, for peace, peace of soul, peace of mind. I love that I've been conditioned in a way that gives me what I hope is undying strength and resolve. And I love the peace in my life that comes from the intricate, awe-inspiring beauty that is God's perfect plan. I love that I don't know it all, that I can still learn, that what I HAVE learned is so much. That I can take what I DO know and have and own and pass it on, help another soul, heal another wound, comfort the pain-stricken souls that fill this world.
I feel like this, like there is a reason I was conditioned this way, because even with all that I have become now, I feel like there is more. More that I'm meant to do? More that I'm meant to help with? I feel like this because I have shed a thousand versions of my skin that part of me now barely resembles the me of the late nineties; and I don't know how I got here. I just... really... don't know. I take a look at my past self and ponder my self-centered-ness, not thinking I was self-centered for a second, thinking I was SOO right. I take a look at ALL the times I thought I was so right (from parenting to financial considerations to whatever) and realize half of my die hard opinion, though founded, was just blind argument (that I often "won" because people seemed to catch on that it was easier to let me go than to point out what I so painfully did not see.) I take a look at my naivety and the way I was able to convince myself of my alternate reality and just cringe. I see how much more practical I've become (even despite my crazy whims) because the way that I was impractical before crossed the line into dilusion.
I feel like this because it TOOK two and five and seven years of intensely compacted traumas (and dramas!) (and I'm talking SERIOUS, painful, life-threatening, sanity-threatening stuff, not "my boyfriend left me, yada yada") to reduce me down, chop me up, mix me up, turn me around, spin me upside down and right side up to get to the person I am right now in this very chair. I mean it took THAT much, THAT kind of thing, that LEVEL of gruesomely grave lows to get me to be a better person. Maybe I shouldn't view it that way, but I guess I always have. And rather than it being about God being vindictive, just seeing in a way (now, that is--it took a while) that instead of Him thinking I was this wrethched little heathen of hell and needing to bootcamp my arse, it was more along the lines of "ok, you're not a bad girl, but I'm gonna give you these 'cause I need you for something later." And see, just typing that sent my head for a loop because I used to be all head-in-clouds for everything that when I came down to reality, I came down so hard the bruises still hurt and I've become nearly skeptical in my death grip on sensibility. Yet, that phrase, even in my own interpretation "...'cause I need you for something later..." sent a tingle through my temples and nearly brought tears to my eyes.
So hard to go on a tangent like this when I have other entries like this or this and get caught up in the incarnate world... but in all of my windbaggery, never did I profess to be perfect.