Not often, but enough, I think about having two mentally-ill parents. Or at least two parents who've played fast and loose with reality. As I hate the term mentally ill.
I just finished watching the latest Ali Wong special on Netflix. Whoever knows what will hit you when. I think if you're open to learning from anything at anytime, things come like that. I just thought, "Wow, look at her. This isn't at all what she had planned. She didn't pursue this, like, in college. It sort of happened. She worked hard, but also, she didn't, in that uniquely, obsessive (white) American way."
Somehow, it just reminded me again that I have all this shit that's happened, and it's meaningless in the sense of whether I enjoy my life or not. I am discovering that once my brain has become free from the trauma that seemed incapacitating, I can do and accomplish great things, meaning mainly, live my life however I chose with vibrancy. My parents did the best they could and I'm here, on the planet, because of them and because they fed, clothed me and supported me. They weren't villains by any stretch; they were seriously fucked up and that fucked me up for a very long time.
It hasn't been until I've been able to separate myself from them, to break the codependency, that I feel free to be and become what I've always wanted. Anger keeps us connected, but so does obsessive needs to be caring. Or helpful. Or controlling.
I'm done with any excuses that begin with, "Well, if only when I was a kid, this had been better..." What would have been better? Like, that it would have been better to have been born an orphan in some war-torn country? Cuz I'm pretty sure that would have been worse, much worse, that what I've experienced and am finally processing.
No disrespect to the shit I've been through. That's not what this is about. It's about just deciding that excuses don't work, either direction. You can find someone that's had it worse, someone that's had it better. It's irrelevant. What matters is what you do with what you have, which sounds like something either Dumbledore or Gandalf would say.
What I have is worse than most of my friends, true statement. If that's my comparison, I might always feel like some kind of freak, like these issues are my fault. If I hang out with homeless kids or someone with an illness, I realize that I've been blessed with abundance.
*****
Complaining seems so much more attractive. Why is that? I decided at group tonight to just listen more, really listen, and when I spoke, to say things that were questions or statements that weren't negative.
I talked much less.
I am remaking myself and how I think and act. It seems negativity is an attractive alternative to depression. My brain has latched onto it like a new toy, a clever toy. I don't like it.
Fortunately, this isn't my first rodeo. I don't know why I've been so contrary lately, so negative. I know how to change it; it's just not easy.
Ask more questions. Don't say negative things. Don't think negative things. What am I grateful for in this moment? What is happening right now in this moment? What's outside? What season is this? How fortunate I am to be with these people just now.
The cure for negativity isn't rocket science. It just takes practice and like any addiction, time.