Monday, June 30, 2008

I wish I may, I wish I might

It occurred to me recently (while watching Oprah, no less) that the law of attraction has some merit worth further exploration. And somehow all it took was a change in my perspective, perhaps it's always been there, with me all along. Not only a secret of how to get what you want from life through crystal clear intentions, but the secret of how the world itself works, whether you give it any thought or not.

When I left New Mexico all I knew was that it was perhaps the most challenging experience of my life, and that while I was expected back in a couple of months, I had no desire to ever return. Every day my stomach was in knots waiting for the day that the phone call would come summoning me back. If only there were a way, I thought, that I would not have to do so. Secretly I wished for it. And slowly, over time, my calls were not returned. Slowly, it seemed they began to distance themselves from me. Until one day, inexplicably, I was told in no uncertain terms that I was no longer welcome back. Now this , in and of itself, is a story long enough to fill many volumes but suffice it to say that the story centers around an abusive, spiteful, possibility mentally ill matriarch hell bent on total and complete martyrdom, ridiculous false accusations, and an innocent, genuinely altruistic grandson (played by me). At the end of the day not one person in New Mexico believed I was anything but a thief and a liar. All of my many months of loving, compassionate care, of emotional turmoil, of self sacrifice were it seemed, for not. This is where I have resided for he last several months, in this emotional space, this knowledge of my time having been wasted, my character questioned, my spirit broken.

It suddenly hit me, as I sat watching this Oprah, however, that the universe had heard my wish. I had gotten exactly what I asked for. Granted, next time I might choose to be a little more specific, but nonetheless, I had been given the gift of my freedom, from ever having to return, from no longer feeling obligated. There on a silver platter exactly as I had ordered it, and it never even occurred to me.

Furthermore, why shouldn't I be grateful? Despite the pain, and the hurt, and the many family members who will forever more believe things about me that are patently false, this gift was real. Instead of living in the anger of the aftermath, why not choose to live in the gratitude of life's lessons. Does it ultimately matter what anyone thinks of me? Least of all people whom I have only met a handful of times in my entire life?

All of this time, since having first arrived in New Mexico, I have been in this tiny mental cage of emotional chaos, of obligation, and anger, and victimization, and even when she had unlocked the door, I still chose to stay inside. All it took was a change in the glasses I was wearing to view the world, and now I see that the door, that the way out of this feeling of being broken is standing wide open. And now with clear intentions I can walk through the open door out of the darkness of my depression, and into the light of my future happiness. It is a road, a journey, a process. But the door is open, the path is clear, and for the first time in a long time, I have some semblance of hope. That this feeling is not permanent, that happiness is possible, that change is on its way.

And still, I must ask, can it all really be this easy?

4 comments:

B Kinch said...

The world is waiting for you. Come out and play :)

Cheyenne said...

I am personally laying the stones for your new path, each with loving care. Not to worry, though, I am erecting a Starbucks and various gourmet eateries along the way. And a place which sells high-end lip gloss. I mean come on...

And you don't mind a few tag-alongs right?

Love Chey

pchp said...

I second Brandy and Cheyenne's sentiments. :)

You deserve so much in life - and I think that this was just a small stumbling block. Your path is wide open!

love you.

Puja said...

I really relate to this post—both the pain of the experience itself, and the triumph of freeing yourself from the past. I reread this line several times: “All of this time, since having first arrived in New Mexico, I have been in this tiny mental cage of emotional chaos, of obligation, and anger, and victimization, and even when she had unlocked the door, I still chose to stay inside.”

How do we move on? How do we translate these painful experiences into optimism for the future? How forgive those who have hurt us…even though they aren’t asking for forgiveness? How do we give ourselves a fresh start? How will we grow wise? I know neither of us want to join ranks with the bitter sounding, defeated, deflated, jaded world haters. We are too good, too full of life, too capable, and far too loving to waste ourselves on the past. It happened. It is not happening anymore. We brush off our shoulders, commit to never allowing people to abuse us, and walk on, with the music playing in the background. Let us be resilient.