Musings and Awakenings

One of the most important things my wonderful Mother taught my siblings and I, was how vital it is to have good manners.  We had impeccable manners drummed into us from a very early age and I think, besides the fact that my Mom was a really nice and polite person, that this also stemmed from the fact that she had a very low self esteem.  For her it was important not to make anyone ever feel uncomfortable or to put anyone “out” – almost as if believing that if she did so that they may turn around and notice her perceived “failings”.

I only came to realise this fact as a grown woman, especially after having spent years being treated as a useful but somewhat expendable object by my Dad, and once I had made this realisation I made every effort to separate being polite and well-mannered from being browbeaten.  Not an easy task after decades of conditioning, I can tell you.  I gradually grew a cheekier demeanour and forced myself to use the “because I can” reasoning as much as possible.

And I felt empowered and a lot more confident in myself until earlier this year when an older family member (whose opinion and counsel I revered and whom I loved unconditionally) showed me a great deal of disrespect in a war of words which left me feeling like a bus had run me over.  It took me weeks before I was able to drag myself back to a shaky but respectable shadow of what I had proudly grown to be (although, months later I still find myself a little weepy when I remember how I was spoken to).

But this is all part of life, isn’t it?  And one shouldn’t count your successes in life by how many times you get knocked down but by how many times you get back up again.  However, I am clearly expected to go through a bit of a growth spurt this year.  Last week I once again had the wind knocked out of my sails when – all in one day – I managed to offend a very dear friend by posting on FaceBook a certain meme that I wholeheartedly believe and then someone questioned my approach to a situation that is very close to my heart and certainly based on the aforementioned meme.  And I’ve come to learn that doubting my “me-ness”, doubting my train of thought, doubting myself in sections and doubting myself as a whole can be a very depressing thing.  It leaves me feeling useless and rather like a deflated balloon.

So I pick myself up.  I retreat.  I regroup.  I gather my thoughts.  I question myself.  I think.  I meditate.  I question myself again.  I spend much time asking myself who I am.

Then I wash my face.  I puff my chest out.  I begin to place the disappointment and self doubt into perspective.  And once again I begin climbing the path of life.  With a little more caution that something else might up and bat me off the path.  But a little more peace, a little more confidence, a little more cynicism.

And the outcome?  I still believe in myself.  I still believe in my ability to effect change in my life as well as the lives of others.  And most importantly: I don’t believe I need to change who I am, how I think, how I feel or how I act.

 

I believe that complacency does as much damage as blatant evil and I choose not to be complacent.  I would much rather do something, no matter now trivial or senseless it may be perceived by others, than do nothing to change the world in which I live.

I am woman.  Hear me Roar !!! (ok, its still a bit of a whimper for now, but I'll get there)