Connecting

I had promised myself to blog more often. To be true to my thoughts and my feelings. Lord knows only a few people read this, but looking back over my posts are cathartic. And perhaps just one lonely soul will read over my words and connect as well. Think "thank goodness, someone else is going through the same chaos I am." And feel better for it.

Anyway, my chaotic thoughts seemed to have gotten away with me again. I feel the tug and pull of my emotional side and my rational side daily. I want to connect with people, but I don't want to get hurt. I want to volunteer more, but I also want to get my shit together. I want to be special and unique, but not get lost in not caring what others think.

I've been over this with my psych numerous times. The war raging inside my head and my heart. My constant questioning of myself in literally everything I do. Did I say the right thing? Did I do the right thing? Did I say too much? Not enough? Should I have hugged them or shook hands? Should I have said something or just listened?

I believe a part of this stems from my mother and my father being polar opposites in their morals and values. My dad was a staunch businessman. Work came first, but he loved to play and play hard as well. My mother was creative and empathetic. I lived with my mom and picked up most of her personality. But I struggled for acceptance from my father. I'm very business-oriented. Very driven. But also very emotional.

I will openly admit to having a low EQ. I am smart. I am process oriented. But when I get frustrated, I either stuff it down or I blow up.

I also wonder, however, how much technology has to do with my feelings of frustration with myself. We live in a day in age in which perfection is constantly pushed at us. Look at this mom who can do everything. She can work a full-time job, raise perfect kids, have a great body, do it all! Why can't you? Look at this person going around ordering stuff for homeless people. Look at this person standing up for what they believe in. Look at this person being successful and making millions of dollars. Look at this person who paid off all their loans in 6 months. Look at this person who keep a perfect house. Look at what all these people did and you can too.

But I can't. And my mind doesn't realize that. We see all the perfect moments in people's lives and we don't realize that they are imperfect too. That person who paid off their loans probably lived like a miser and turned down social events and got depressed and stressed and crazy. That person who ordered stuff for homeless people probably either got money from a company to do it or is single, well-to-do and has a ton of extra time to do those things. That person being successful and made millions of dollars is on their 6th marriage because time is money and they don't know how to be in a successful personal relationship with someone.

Everyone is afraid to show their struggles and their weaknesses.

When I was younger, I was so much smarter. I realized that we all have weaknesses. That we have shared pain. That we have much more in common than we realize.

I would talk to people for hours about their lives and their experiences. I learned that a boy with a beautiful voice had a miserable life because people thought he was gay and would make fun of him for it. I realized that having sex for longer, didn't equal better. I realized that moms do what they can to take care of their children, even if it means becoming a stripper to provide for their families. I realized that pot can either be a recreational drug like having a beer once in a while; or it can be a debilitating drug that keeps you from working and numbs you to your real problems. I realized that no matter the problem, we were all human, we all hurt, we all tried the best we could to get through life. We all make poor choices and as long as we just see the choices and not what led us to them, it's easy to yell and judge and make blanket statements about that which we really don't know that much about.

I see all the time on Facebook people making judgements. Making blanket statements. Using labels and harsh words against each other, without getting to know each other.

My grandmother hates drugs. Hates liquor. Hates people who use drugs. Doesn't even believe in legalizing pot for medicinal uses. I know some people would look at her and think she's old. She doesn't know. She's only basing her opinion based on outdated ideas. But what they don't know is she has a history of living with men who abused liquor. And any form of substance that alters the brain is scary to her. There's no excuse in her eyes. Because that's what she lived.

I need to remember this. In everything I do, all day. I need to remember we all have our own stories. Our own fears. Our own experiences that influence the decisions we make. I need to know more about those I live in this world with. And give people the benefit of the doubt.

Be less judgey. Listen more. Try to understand.