Drinking the Koolaid

For a good portion of my life, I harbored this notion that I was unworthy of things; success, love, comfort, happiness, you name it. If it was good, it wasn't mine. I know, in retrospect it does seem pretty silly. What can I say? It was a seed planted by someone else into some pretty fertile soil. The soil's always pretty fertile when we're young.

And so this lie grew as I grew - and it was ravenous. I felt compelled to keep choosing situations and people who fed this notion, because it seemed such a faithful friend. It stuck with me - hammering the "truth" home - while I set everything else in my life up for failure from the start. I had to. I wasn't worthy of anything better, or so that's what the people and situations that I chose for myself indicated.

When we've made a decision about something, we don't have to look far for confirmation that we're right. And we really, really need to be right, don't we?

When we accept the idea that the world sucks, all kinds of calamities will appear before us to prove us right. When we think that people are just mean, selfish, narcissistic boneheads whose sole purpose is to make our lives miserable, guess what? Hordes of folks will line up just to hand us our butts on platters. All we'll see and experience are things that confirm our decision's validity. Then we can walk around with this ever-growing chip on our shoulders with our chests puffed out and say, "See? I told you so!" to everyone else.

Won't that win us some glowing accolades? Yes, sadly enough, oftentimes it will - from others who feel they need proof of the same. Misery loves, and breeds, company.

What would happen if, all of a sudden, we decided that we didn't want to be miserable anymore? What if we started smiling and speaking in a new, upbeat voice? Well, our facial muscles would not be accustomed to the change, so we'd probably start out looking like Wednesday in the film Addams Family Values. I know, pretty creepy stuff. And that following we have? You know, the family, friends and admirers who have set up camp under our clouds of gloom? Well, they'll start to get uncomfortable. And then they'll start to get mad. We've disrupted their own brand of self-torture. Suddenly, we'll become the fodder for their anger. We've turned on them and become happy, and they can't have that! We will have to pay. So our former allies will likely walk around with their growing chips, chests jutting out, and toss lots of darts at us for the benefit of their own followers.

Yeah, going positive can get pretty lonely at first. That comfortable cesspool of nasties that seemed so faithful will suddenly get the heck outta Dodge, and leave ruins in their wake.

However, as Elizabeth Gilbert has pointed out, "Ruin is a gift. Ruin is the road to transformation." Indeed, I've found this to be the case.  As I slid my weary psyche into this new, much more positive outlook, things began to change for me. And so did the people around me. Some of them stuck around and changed as well. Some of them stuck around, but only on the periphery; casting wary sidelong glances my way. Many of them went away entirely, either voluntarily or by request, but an amazing thing happened when they did.

Others moved in to fill the void. People with much to teach me, and much to learn alongside me, began to reveal themselves in my vision. Not right away, mind you, but gradually...gently.  They reflect back to me what I long to see in myself - what I have begun to see in myself. And it is good.

I'd like to say that it's all been smooth sailing since; that I have never been tempted to reach for that cup of Koolaid.  Alas, old habits have a tendency to squint into the sunshine and beckon us back into the shadows.  I can, however, confirm that I've become so much better at spotting them when they do, and then choosing better.

I like this path much better than the old one. It's warmer, brighter and has greater benefits. And the people - they give infinitely warmer hugs.

Gratitude <3

My Morning Junket

Begin the Day the Bella Way

• Bella out for morning pee...check.  
• Bella fed...check.
• Bella out for poo...check.
• Begin self-caffeination...check.
• Play fetch with Bella...check.
• Begin morning social networking...check.
• Convince Bella to leave my slippered foot the hell alone...check.
• Laptop booted, heater engaged and moved close to my writing chair, and second cuppa joe on the ready...check.
• Bella contentedly ripping the stuffing out of her favorite, soon-to-be-unstuffed animal...check.
• Activate disengaging procedure from morning social networking...check.
• Bella begins morning mellow...check.
• Begin communing with characters...check. 

It used to be that NOTHING stood in the way of me and my morning coffee.  Anything that attempted such a dastardly act would surely suffer the consequences, and the penalties were extreme.  All that changed when a willful little puff-ball named Bella arrived on the scene.  In looking at my list, I am astonished to find that my first cuppa joe has dropped to fourth place.  FOURTH place!

What a difference a dog makes.

A joyful difference, indeed.  I'm convinced that all writers should have a critter of their liking on hand during those otherwise isolated writerly days spent deep inside their own private Idahoes.  Preferably one that is cuddle-worthy with a whole lot of character.  Among myriad reasons why this can be so beneficial - including the generic need for companionship, affection, etc. - is that these little creatures tug us out of ourselves and our comfort zones in small doses.  Not enough to drive us to irreparable distraction, like many relationships can, but enough to give our minds a brief sabbatical as we meet the laconic demands of another.

Writers are very much control freaks, if you really think about it.  We live in worlds of our own creation, manipulate locales and people according to our will, and can create and destroy anything that strikes our fancy.  This power-lust can become insatiable, sometimes extending far beyond the confines of the page.  We can be such princesses regarding our environment, as well as the situations and conditions surrounding us as we delve deep within our psyches, pluck out what we find, and decide whether it's worth writing about.  Yep...we take ourselves very seriously.

Enter the critter with a mind of her own.  Our carefully constructed domain is turned on its ear as we fall achingly in love with - or at the very least develop a guarded affection for - something other than ourselves, our lovers and our work.  (The aforementioned three are far more submissive than a puppy on a mission.)   We clamor to find a new normal as we adjust to this voluntary commitment to the care and feeding of another.  This is a whole new realm for most of us because, in reality, we are only peripherally concerned with the care and feeding of ourselves.  

We become soft around the edges when our new-found companions cast their dewy eyes our way.  Suddenly, without warning, the tables are turned.  Master becomes servant as we bend to the will of another.  For a moment, anyway.

Write on!