Thankful?

I am thankful for so many things, but today, tonight, it avoids my grasp. And the minute, I finished that sentence, this voice in my head said, "What!?#@ You're healthy, you're strong, it's a beautiful world. What do you have to complain about?"

Why do we all diminish our own worries, fears, problems, because there are people out there who are worse off? No matter who you are, no matter how bad it is, there's someone who has it worse. It's like the contest to be the prettiest, the best, the most talented, the most celebrated person on the planet? There's always going to be someone prettier, more talented, more acclaimed. Does that mean your plight, your situation isn't important? Of course not. My point is: Sometimes we're allowed to care about ourselves, aren't we? Sometimes we're allowed to be "all about me"!

These words, mind you, are said by someone who spends 95% of her time taking care of everybody else. Does everyone have enough to eat? Are you too warm? Here, let me turn the air-conditioning on. Are you too cold? Can I get you a sweater? Do you need my car, my money, my love, my left arm? Funny, I know, but it's true. Sometimes I think that kind of "unselfishness" is just another form of martyrdom, not feeling good enough, dancing on your tiptoes until someone says, "Hey, you, let me take care of you, let me do what you need".

I am, though, truly sorry, truly saddened by a world that seems to have given up on itself. Then I read M.D.O.D. - check out their blog at http://docsontheweb.blogspot.com/ - and I am stopped dead in my tracks. Poor choice of words :) But, really, who are these guys? They are amazing. They may, in fact, save each and every one of us.

I will try to write more tomorrow; I am going to become a disciplined individual, exercise every day, eat right, and write to purge my soul.

Oh God!!

I'm not even sure why I started this blog. Crazy, scary, trying to put your thoughts, your feelings out there for everyone to see when most of your life you've pushed them so far down that even you don't think them, don't feel them. Is that a confession? I suppose it is.

Here's another one: I don't think I'll ever be able to completely trust anyone. It's not that I don't want to. God, I want to, I really, really want to. It's just impossible. When you've led a life of deception, when you've been deceived too many times, when you realize how terribly easy it is to make anyone believe the things you want them to, you sadly have to face the fact that the world is probably doing it right back to you too.

All of this rambling and what does it even mean? It means that I'm quite seriously scared to death. So scared that I really just want to sit still, let nothing happen, and yet, when I do that, I get bored with it all. Maybe the philosophers were right, maybe the idiots are right. I don't even know anymore. And, at this very moment, playing through my headphones is "You can count on the sun to rise, and the stars to come out at night ... trust is a tightrope we all have to walk". Why is it so much easier for some people than others? Do we all have the kind of angst and confusion that I feel and I just dwell on it, just swim in it, or do some people really get off easy. And, hey, I don't mean that in a negative way. I would love to be one of those people who go through life seeing all the good, feeling positive at every turn, bouncing back all the time, but, here I am, about to be 51 years old, and I just feel like maybe I never got it right.

The moments that keep illuminating in my mind, in my heart, are the moments when my children were small. I keep seeing that, keep feeling that, how sweet, perfect, uncomplicated it really was. It was easy to put a smile on their face, and seeing that smile made my life feel important, significant, worthwhile. I had this conversation with someone the other night ... actually, my significant other ... that we all get our sense of ourselves from other people. Okay, I hear everyone going, "No, no, I created myself, I formed my own self-esteem". Of course you didn't. From the moment you came onto this planet, it was the reflection of yourself in the eyes, in the hearts of those around you, that nurtured you ... or ... damn the "or" ... destroyed you, damaged you in a way that can never be repaired.

I keep trying to be a "live in the moment" kind of person. I don't think it's too late for that just because I'm "old" by all the standards that everyone uses. Oh, yes, isn't the greatest compliment we receive once we're over the age of 35 is "You don't look that old!" Why is it bad to look old? Why isn't it beautiful? Why aren't lines beautiful? Is it all about perfect skin, perfect hair, perfect breasts? The awful, unavoidable answer is yes. Our value diminishes with every passing year.

This is so stream-of-consciousness, because, as I finished typing that thought, I realized that it's a good thing. It means that the value you place on yourself, those who learn to value you, are all that really mattered, and it was all a process just to get there. I hope for me, I hope for everyone, we get to arrive at a place where we are The Velveteen Rabbit:

"You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."