Your children, perhaps, or friends? It's all up to us to carve out that slice of life that leaves good feelings. It's not enough to be right.
"It's more important to be happy than right."
or
"It's more important to be righteous than right."
But I don't like the term "righteous". Reminds me of middle class Christian aphorisms. Being fed pap rather than meat. None of us are "righteous". If we are, it's a negative term.
I love my children to tell me when they have good memories. That's more important to me than gold. And it's important to reframe, I think - I wish I could do that more expertly, and I wish I could advise my loved ones how to do it.
"We haven't all had happy childhoods. But we all have a chance at a second childhood, and our second childhood is up to us."
In regards to my recent past, I've hurt someone. Through this truly dreadful illness, and often while I was unmedicated, I harassed someone who didn't deserve it, and I misinterpreted the situation. I misinterpreted the situation badly because I needed a savior so desperately.
I'm trying for more balance in my articles and poetry, too. And trying to realize in my regular life that I'm not the only player on the stage. Indeed, there's a world beyond the stage.
I'm withdrawing from my volunteer work. I just think it's the right thing to do. I'm still a friend to the lady I volunteered with.
I went to a movie today, "Prince of Persia." Interesting about destiny and lives intersecting. I think that happens, really it does. People have helped me from all walks of life and I've ended up a happy camper, no matter the negative memories from my past. There must have been joyful moments because I'm a happy and positive person and how did I get this way? It's a mystery to me. Must be that old Hound of Heaven pursuing me. It must be caring hearts who surrounded me.
I believe all will be well.
You're known by your fruits.
"A thorn tree doesn't bear figs."
My past is fraught with painful memories of being hurt and hurting others, doing wrong things and doing things wrong. Until recently, these negative memories assaulted me daily, making me cringe with remorse and embarrassment. That's a hellish way to live.
ReplyDeleteMy past was devouring my present, endangering my future.
I can't do anything to change what's happened, but I could -- and did -- wage war against such thoughts, refusing to entertain them. A Bible verse (somewhere) that says "Do not remember earnestly the [mistakes] of the past" became my sword.
I commend you, friend, for deciding to use your present in positive behavior toward yourself and others. It's the best and only memorial we can give to our unhappy pasts.
I believe your children and friends love you very much, and are truly proud of every single victory you've achieved over your illness and its effects throughout your life.
KUDOS for seizing the day with joy and expectation of a better future, a better YOU!
My kids say I can stop apologizing to them, they already know I couldn't help it...but, how does one stop apologizing to oneself, and rationalizing back?
ReplyDeleteSince this latest recovery, I find that the good winds up crowding out the bad almost without effort on my part. Now, that could just be good drugs, but it feels like more, too.
It feels like the head work I've already done is starting to catch up with me. When the chemical balance is right, I bob to the surface like a cork. I can see what's behind me in the water, but I can where where it's clear ahead of me, too. That doesn't mean I don't have to swim to get somewhere, but at least there's a visible path.
In some ways, this middle age thing has turned out to be the best, most productive and positive time in my life. Experience? Maybe. Could be the hormones, too. Hormones made me crazy. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
I'm glad you're feeling good about the steps you've taken. I have always been very open about my situation, but I grew up just enough years behind you that it was probably easier for me to do so.
I shudder to think about having to hide this part of who I am. They can see my hazel eyes and freckles; they can't see that I'm part Danish (hi Judi) or that I have a mood disorder. If questioned, I wouldn't hesitate to divulge either fact.