Tag: Inspiration

Religion, and other ramblings

I had a long, and lengthy, discussion with a friend of mine on the topic of religion and beliefs. For the longest time, I thought of myself as a pagan. Then, when belief failed me, I turned to atheism. Now, I am not so sure what to call myself. I cannot say there is nothing out there, but I cannot definitively say something is out there either. I simply do not know.

What I can say with certainty is there is much to this world that we still do not understand.

I believe gods were created out of necessity. People needed something to put their faith in to believe that everything would be okay. This could be anything from the weather patterns, food, fertility, even death. Every culture, every people that has walked this earth, has held some form of  belief. By the time Christianity was conceived, tens of thousands of cultures had been long dead, and with them their gods died as well.

We must then choose to belief that there is something, or there is nothing. Furthermore, we must then decide who is right, and who is wrong. But what if the truth was no one was completely right, and no one is completely wrong?

I am of the belief that true faith comes from acknowledging the fact that we simply do not know. We can strive to find answers, but ultimately, we just do not know. We want to be right so badly that we sometimes miss the fact that answers can lie in unsuspecting places. Religion does not explain everything, and science does not explain everything. If you were to put the two together, however, you get more answers, and the divide between people is thinned. If you acknowledge that answers can lie within multiple religions rather than just one, more answers are presented.

I do not believe in absolutes. Nothing is absolutely bad, and nothing is absolutely good. Nothing is absolutely correct, or absolutely wrong. Bad can have good intentions, and with bad comes lessons. Good can have bad intentions, and good can also have its own set of lessons. While we argue incessantly over who is right and who is wrong, we are missing the biggest picture of them all; we are all human beings sharing an earth together, and our bickering is leading to our own demise.

Religion, and even a lack thereof, has led to countless centuries of bloodshed. Our earth is covered in gallons of blood from fallen warriors willing to die for what they believed to be correct, and its the age old chess match. There is no winner when there is death. The biggest armies does not mean one is more correct than another. A religion with a massive following is no better than a smaller following. The number of followers does not dictate the level of faith a group of people may possess. The only thing numbers provide is a larger army from which wars can begin, and how history will remember the fallen.

Going back to a point I made earlier within this post, I believe gods were created from faith, and that faith came from necessity. As people moved from land to land, they took their gods with them. The people changed, evolved, and the gods were forced to do the same. That is why we see so many who call themselves by the same name, yet believe so differently. This is why we see so many beliefs that are similar to other religious beliefs from countries we’ve never visited.  What I see now, however, is stagnation. The world, like it or not, is constantly evolving. New gods are being created out of necessity, new beliefs are forming from necessity, yet people cling so dearly to the old ways they have always known. This is not the way the universe is supposed to work. This is not to say, of course, that we should completely abandon the “old ways”, but we should not stay stuck in them. If we remained stuck, you would not be sitting at your computer, or holding your phone, reading these words while constructing your responses. We must learn from the old ways, and bring the old into the new. We must take the lessons we’ve been given, but continue to move forward. We will be ancient history one day. Our future generations will look back on this generation in disgust, as we look back on certain aspects of our ancestors, and wonder “How could people sit by and allow this to happen?” Stagnation.

There must be a balance, a harmony. The longer we continue to allow ourselves to be divided, the more we see the world being destroyed. Soon, there will be no one to argue with of right and wrong, because there will be no one left to have an opinion.

I do not believe faith comes from a book written by men. In fact, I believe religious texts are one of the poisons of our society. A book that teaches people how to live can easily be rewritten, or mistranslated, to sway the public opinion. We have seen the evidence of this, in fact, with the changes made to the bible over time. Faith comes from within, belief comes from within, and we create our gods out of necessity. Each person serves a purpose, and therefore we must also accept that “bad” people also serve a purpose. With the recent popularity in Ted Bundy, I’ll use him as an example. Ted Bundy did terrible things, but from those terrible things, we got a unique insight into the way the mind of a serial killer functions. We have a better understanding of just how terrible the human mind can be, and we saw warning signs. We bettered our understanding of the evolution of a serial killer, While we focus on the acts done by the man, we also looked at the victims. Each death gives us more answers about the human body, the human vessel. Each day we continue to move forward and learn, and that is the way we are supposed to be. We are supposed to move forward and learn more so that we may have stronger beliefs in the capability of mankind.

From all the negative things that have happened, good has come out of them. Every experience shapes who we are as people. While some events have a bigger impact than others, we cannot point fingers and continue to hate one group or the other. Instead, we take the information, good and bad, and we learn from it. The situations thrown upon us are up to us to decide how we are going to react to them. Bad can be changed to good.

Perhaps I’m getting a bit rambling, and perhaps I’m even not making sense now. I honestly cannot tell. I can only hope these words make sense to someone out there. I wish these words could help the progression by helping people realize the importance of accepting change, of accepting progression, of accepting we do not know everything, and accepting that absolutes simply don’t exist. No one is right, no one is wrong, no one is bad, no one is good all the time. It is simply impossible. Change, evolution of ourselves, however, is very possible, if we’d simply allow it to happen.

I am a bully

Bullying has hit an all time high thanks to the technology we all crave. It follows us home; we are subjected to the cruelties of the online world where doing something as simple as stating one’s own opinion can launch a fire storm of epic proportions. We see movements every day against bullying, raising awareness and starting campaigns. None of us ever want to admit that we’re bullies, especially now. But I’m going to be brave and admit that I am a bully.

When I was little, there was a girl. She was the same age as me. We liked all the same things. We were best friends. When she fell, I’d laugh at her, sometimes further shove her down with insults and embarrassing comments. When she’d cry, I’d tell her she was stupid for crying. When she was angry I’d taunt her, then make her feel guilty for standing up for herself. No matter how badly I treated her, she wanted desperately for my love and affections, so we remained best friends.

As we grew older, the bullying grew with us, and became much worse. Soon I was cutting this sweet little girl, and forcing her to live in my own personal hell with me. Every time she tried to show me light, I broke it until it was dark as well. Each time she tried to make new friends, I embarrassed her and made her cry. The name calling from the other kids was only made worse by me as I echoed it and remained a constant reminder of it. I called her stupid and ugly, told her she’d never find love and she’d always be alone. I remember telling her one night “at least you have a vagina. Men will always want to fuck you, even if they don’t love you.” We were thirteen.

Speaking of thirteen, the girl started cutting herself and I made fun of her scars. Finally one day I convinced her that her life meant nothing. She tried to kill herself. She managed to live, however, but spent nine days locked in a hell that was supposed to be a rehabilitation ward. Did my bullying stop there? No. In fact, it got worse. I began to treat her as though she were diseased. I told her everyone was watching her. Judging her. Wishing she’d died. She believed me. When another student shoved her down and said she was “just too stupid to die”, she nearly broke again. None of the teachers wanted to help her because she didn’t fit the ideal girl type. I made her believe they were right.

Every failure, every harsh word, I’ve thrown at her and kept reminding her until finally the sweet and innocent girl began to break. I made her feel like she was worth absolutely nothing. Settling would be her best option, because otherwise she’d always be alone. Relationships failed. Friendships fell apart. Distance grew further and further between people who were always supposed to love one another. And it was all her fault, or so I made her believe.

You see, I am a bully. I am the worst kind of bully you can imagine. I am my own self critic. The girl I’ve tortured since childhood was myself…..

We see campaigns launching all the time to try and end bullying. But what of our own self abuse? What of the constant negativity? We’re told to just look in the mirror and lie to ourselves, try to convince ourselves that we are good, and beautiful, and if we keep telling ourselves this, we’ll eventually begin to believe it. The problem is every time I look in the mirror, I see my scars. I see the haunted eyes of a scared little girl who wants love, affection, and acceptance. I see the torn heart of a girl who is still tearing herself apart even though all she has left is scar tissue. I see the darkened mind of a woman who tries to keep herself inspired, who tries to hold onto, and see, the beauty and good the world has to offer…only to witness it crumble around her.

I see a girl who thinks ending it all would be the better option.

For some reason, she holds on to hope. She clings to the positive and eats up any of the good that comes her way, which often times only turns bad because she obsesses and loses her identity to try and make more of a good thing happen…which only further makes her miserable.

I see a girl who lashes out at those around her because she didn’t know how to deal with the crumbling world around her, and she feels as though she’s drowning. Suffocating.

The problem with bullying is so much of it is internal, the only way to truly fix the problem is to fix ourselves first.

This post has no conclusion. It doesn’t end on a happy note, or an inspirational story to prove that you, too, can grow past this because the simple fact is, it’s a fight I’m still fighting. I want to help, I want to inspire. But I cannot lie. I will not lie to you. However. There is one thing I can most assuredly say, with absolute honesty.

You are not alone.

Know your limits. Know your boundaries. Know when you’ve had enough.. And know when it is time to swallow your pride and admit you need help or cannot do this on your own.

You. Are. Not. Alone.

Dare to Hope

I feel as though I may have cheated my readers a little bit this morning by giving you such a short post. No worries, I hope that I can more than make up for that with this one. When I woke up today I actually had no intention of writing another blog post, but circumstances are always changing, and I felt inspired. What inspired me, you might ask? A man named Nick Vujicic.

Nick Vujicic, for those of you who do not know, is an Australian-Serbian man born with a condition known as tetra-amelia syndrome or, to put it in terms we can all understand: He was born with no arms and no legs. He travels around the world giving motivational speeches, and I have to say, it brings me to tears. My mother actually showed me a video of his years ago, but what he was saying didn’t really make sense even though it was entirely relevant to what was happening in my life; I simply wasn’t ready to listen. I am now, however, and I have found myself in a completely different state of mind than what I originally was.

What makes Nick Vujicic’s speeches so profound is the fact that he starts by making jokes at his own expense, but then grows completely serious. He looks into the crowd and tells everyone “I love you. I don’t care what you’ve done, or who you are. I don’t care what you look like, because that doesn’t matter. I love you.” And though he is religious, and he says he found his strength in God, he encourages everyone to find strength in whatever they need–be it religion or otherwise.

I think that is the problem with the world. We are too busy judging those around us. Whether they are gay, straight, black, white, Latino, European, etc. We judge based on the religion they choose to practice, the choices they’ve made in life, because we want everyone to be perfect. I’m here to tell you there is no such thing as perfect. Beauty is literally in the eye of the beholder. The outside shows nothing of what is on the inside, and if we would look past our judgements, we may actually find we like some of the people we’re tossing down. This point is validated when Nick states

When I first stepped onto this stage, a lot of you felt sorry for me. A lot of you pitied me. You don’t anymore, do you? No, of course not, because you know me. You know what I’ve been through, you can see what I overcame. You’d want to be my friend now, wouldn’t you? Of course you would! But as you can see, I still have no arms and no legs. At this point you’d say, ” So what? Who cares?”

I’ve mentally written this blog a handful of times already, and each time I reach this point, I’m never sure where to begin.

I’m not perfect. I do not want to be perfect, as there is too much stress. I know what it’s like to feel as though no one likes you, or no one wants you around. I know what it feels like to think you’re not good enough, or pretty enough. I’ve been beaten down, I was pushed to the end of my rope on many occasions; one of them nearly slid me to the end. But I came back. I’ve popped up, and I’ve kept going. It’s true, we all worry a little about what people around us think, even if we are too proud to admit it. We’re always trying to please someone. But my question is why? Why are we so worried about browbeating others into thinking like us, and why do we care so much about what others think? The world around us is full of bullies, whether it is in the form of a kid in school, or a corporate business owner. People are constantly pushing and shoving others down–the only thing that changes is the motivation behind it.

I, too, have been told “You’re not good enough”.

What Nick Vujicic has taught me today is to have hope. I wish I’d listened then, perhaps I would have been a lot better off. But the beautiful thing about hope, is it isn’t too late to change. I’ll never be a supermodel, I’ll never be Einstein. I’ll never have a voice like some of the singers in history, I’ll never have a writing talent like Anne Rice. But I am me, damn it, and there is only one me.

You are more precious than diamonds. All the diamonds in the world.

And that is true. There is only one me, just as there is only one you. There will only ever be one you. Never again will there be another you.

My life has made a drastic change over the course of these past three years. I was annulled, married again, became a mother. I divorced again, I lost friends, I reformed some old connections.

There have been days where I just sat, and I cried. I remember the first night when my now ex-husband walked out, and I cried. I sobbed. I panicked. I mourned what the relationship had become, and celebrated what it had once been. I allowed myself to panic, feeling I deserved at least one night. But when the sun rose the next day, my daughter was going to need me, and I needed to pull myself together. So I did. I sat there and I had my arguments with my now ex in my mind. I made him sit and listen to me, and I told him everything he needed to hear, things he didn’t listen to before. At first, I thought that was enough. Until a few months later I realized I still had anger and hatred in my heart for him.

Then I realized that I’d never really be at peace with anything, or anyone, if I held that hatred. Which then led to the realization of just how much hatred I have in my heart towards a lot of things. Hatred is a poison, and it slowly kills us each day. Perhaps you cannot physically die by hating someone or something, but you lose a piece of yourself each day that you left fear, anxiety, and hatred control you. So this time, I had my arguments. I made him listen, but this time…. I let him speak, and I listened. This is all in my head, of course, so I’m sure I was a lot crueler to myself than he would have actually been.

The next day when he came to drop our daughter off, I took him outside and I forgave him. But then I turned around, and I said I was sorry. I don’t know if he knew precisely what I was apologizing for, as he’d not been present for the mental arguments–which is probably a good thing.

I used to feel so much hatred and feelings of betrayal from my friends because I felt as though they’d left me and they’d abandoned me. I hated them because I felt they weren’t showing me what I deserved. And sometimes that may be true, and I will always be hurt by certain things, I am better than that. So instead of hating them, instead of hurting them, I’m going to simply show them why *I* think I deserve better, by being a better person to them.

I felt so much hatred towards my mother, and towards my father, for a lot of things that happened growing up. I held onto that hatred for so very long, and I used to worry that it meant I’d lost valuable time with them. I’ve struggled, I’ve had my arguments, and though I am still hurt by a lot of things, I even managed to forgive them both. I cannot change the past, but I can change the future.

One step at a time: That’s the other thing Nick Vijucic stresses. You cannot take two steps at once, it has to be one step at a time. I have a long way to go before I find my own inner peace, before I am free of this hatred, but I will get there. One day at a time.

I am lonely, and I am afraid, but I have hope that with one step forward each day, I will become the person I want to be. I need to cast my fears aside, and I need to run headlong into life. I am better than that. I am better than the person I was yesterday, and tomorrow I’ll be a better person than I was today.

Instead of worrying about what everyone is wearing, or thinking, or how they look, or act…Instead of trying to make everyone fit to your ideas of perfection, or trying to fit into another person’s ideas, just be yourself. Be happy with yourself, with how you look, who you are.

No I’ll never be any of those things I mentioned above. But they will never be me either.

Do you dare to hope?

I never really knew what my purpose in life is. Hell, I still don’t really know. But maybe, just maybe, this is meant to reach someone. Maybe, just maybe, this will save someone. That being said….

You are beautiful. I don’t care who you are, what religion you practice, the color of your skin. I don’t care what grades you made in school, or what you can or cannot do. I do not care about what you’ve done in your past, because it is just that: The past. I love you.

Dare to hope. Dare to dream. Do not settle for those who cannot love you for who you are. Be you. Love yourself.

For those of you who may be interested in hearing more about Nick Vujicic: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=snDQe3tWwRQ

Thank you for reading.

 

Why my Daughter doesn’t Care that I’m Fat

In the age we live in, it’s hard to be a fat person. We’re taught early on that we’re not as good as our skinnier, more attractive classmates, we’re judged by the clothes we can, or can’t, fit into, and so forth. Though this sounds like normal school antics, they don’t stop once you graduate. We’re pumped full of diet commercials, modeling catalogs, as if the media is just screaming “Look what you’ll never be.” Most of the times if you see a fat person in a movie, they are the butt of the joke.

It’s not always been this way, however. Back in the 50’s and 60’s they pushed advertisements stating how horrible of an insult it was to be called “skinny”. Skinny meant poor, unhealthy, etc. All the things you did not want to be in the 50’s.

Don’t believe me?

Image

We see so many beautiful women from that particular era, it makes you almost miss it. Especially if you’re a fat person.

Sometimes it still bothers me that I’m not thin, and I never will be. Sometimes I look at myself in the mirror and think “Wow… No wonder everyone thinks I’m ugly.” And believe me, you can call a fat person whatever you’d like, but no one can insult us like ourselves. We’ve called ourselves every name in the book.

I’m so envious of these bigger women that are so comfortable in their own skin. They believe they are the most beautiful, and sexiest, women to ever grace the earth, and they are sometimes upwards of 300 lbs or better. I wish I had that confidence, that high self esteem. I don’t think I ever will. I’m always conscious about how I walk, how I breathe, and–sadly–people’s opinions of me.

I’ve always been a big girl, and when I became pregnant with my daughter I got even bigger. Like most moms, I’m struggling to get the weight back off and it seems like no matter what I do I cannot make it go away.

Today, however, is mother’s day. I was outside pushing my daughter on her swing and she was just laughing and having a great time. In the midst of her giggles, I started thinking to myself…You know…. My daughter has never judged me. In her eyes, I am her mother, and to quote a well known saying “Mother is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children.” She doesn’t know such prejudices, she doesn’t understand the differences between fat and skinny. She sees me for me.

Hell, in her mind, she probably prefers me fat. And here’s why:

  • Way more mommy to snuggle:

I’m soft, cuddly, and squishy. Just what all babies adore!

  • When she’s swinging, she can kick a very soft belly instead of a pair of hands to help her learn how to swing properly
  • When she blows raspberries on my tummy, she gets more pffbbfbgbfbfbffbfbft for her buck!
  • She’ll always be able to outrun me. Lol!

My daughter loves me for who I am, and what I do for her, not the size of my trousers. I think I draw more strength from that than I do anything else. It’s time for me to push the negativity that surrounds me from the people who do not know me, or hardly know me, and focus purely on her opinion. At least, for the time being.

As a side note, I’d like to wish all the mothers out there a Happy Mother’s Day!!

 

A Walk Down Memory Lane

For the first half of the week, nothing exciting happened in the least. Middle of the week, I began nurturing a sick child. End of the week, still nurturing said child, but I am also being thrown down memory lane.

I spent the beginning part of the day (after tucking sick child into bed for a nap) reading a blog a friend of mine had started writing ages ago. I felt bad for not having seen it earlier, but reminded myself that everything happens for a reason. I wasn’t meant to see this then. Hell, maybe I wasn’t even meant to see it now. But I did.

Reading through his blog made me remember a lot of good memories, and a lot of sad ones. It reminded me of good times, when things were far easier and, seemingly, better. I remembered friendships that once held so much value that I swore I would die if I lost them. Look at me now. I did not die, but I think a part of me did, because now I feel like a hallowed shell of what I once was. They say hindsight is 20/20, and I am reminded now how true that is.

I’ve made plenty of mistakes, I jumped to a lot of conclusions then, and now, and that has cost me quite a bit. I’ve questioned loyalties, I’ve questioned my decisions, and I’ve questioned myself more often than I care to admit to the general public.

I wish I could go back to those good memories, and change them slightly to make them great. I wish I could say things, do things, but the opportunity for such has passed. The value that I have for certain people is, more than likely, one sided and it hurts knowing that it will never be reciprocated.

I miss my friends, I miss the laughter. I miss feeling like I belonged in a huge, unbreakable family. At the time, I thought, there was no way this family could end but I guess I was the first one to break it apart. Everything happens for a reason, I realize that, but in all honesty I’m really beginning to question those reasons.

Maybe I’m where I need to be right now? Maybe I things will change for the better. I claim to have no hope, but if that was the case would I really be here still? When all hope is lost, what is left? Obviously some hope remains, it’s just hard to see. I’ve lost so much, is there some “grand comeback” planned in the cosmos that I don’t know about?

I realize this post does not have much of a point, and the words are just as scattered as my mind. My thought process is here, there, drifting between sadness and contentment.

  • I miss my friends.
  • I miss belonging.
  • I miss being happy.
  • I want to make things better, but I do not know how.
  • I want someone to help me feel better, but I don’t know how to do that either.
  • I want to be as important as I make people in my life.

I want to matter like I felt like I used to….

Perhaps it was all just a fantasy, and this is reality finally catching up to me?

But hope remains, like it or not. Just as certain as the dreamcatcher that still hangs in my window, some things do not die. Some things just need the right fuel to rekindle a flame.

We wait, we see, and we hope.