Natural blueprint

Throughout history, nature has been man's blueprint and inspiration for progress and invention, even art. Her birds taught us how to fly, her wondrous diverse palette of colors and textures inspired great canvases and landscapes. The list is nearly infinite for the gratitude we have to nature for improving 'man.'

Yet, we take nature, or Mother Nature, for granted. It's just there. The leaves, the birds, the sunshine and rain. The oceans, the trees, the deserts. Grass, flower petals. Animals, furry and scaled and blubbery. It's just there.We see it everyday, in some way or another. Even in the most concrete, dreary cities, there is still nature.

What if nature was not the rich, kaleidoscopic thing we have come to expect. What if every plant bore the same leaves, in the same staid green? Flowers, though abundant, sprung in the equal shape and color. Then what? Wouldn't our lives be just as uninspired? Monotonous?

What about us? We get up. We get ready for work. We go to work. We come home. We spend our time with our significant other, families and the same circle of friends, whether few or several. We eat dinner. Maybe work some more. We sleep. It's a routine mostly all of us are familiar with.  If we're lucky, a weekend getaway or even a vacation. Then what.



I have decided to quit this blog. It no longer serves my purpose in life or the direction I wish to go.

I am not a Middle Class Socialite, nor do I wish to be.

I wish to be a gardener. Cultivating my own life. Watering it, watching it flourish and blossom.

Nature is going to be my blueprint for joy. 

growforjoy.blogspot.com

The freedom of Anger (and finding out who you're really supposed to be)

This past weekend I hit a wall. A wall of anger.

I became angry at my grandmother for not understanding that I can't be her entire life. I was angry at my godmother, pretty much my only family, for not at all understanding my situation and for being the type of person who believes you are supposed to live your life for everyone else. And I was angry at myself.  Angry for allowing the boundaries of my life and who I am get flattened like wimpy blades of grass.

I am so burnt out. I am so frustrated. I am so tired of what feels like near daily trips to the guilt guillotine, whenever I talk to my grandmother.  It's my fault that's she no longer 25 years old and can not do the things she used to do. It's my fault that she's outlived her husband and two kids. It's my fault that she has severe anxiety and worries if I don't call her every single day to tell her I'm okay.
It's my fault that her other white-trash grandchildren don't keep in touch with her. And of course, it's my fault that I am an adult and do not need her to take care of me.

And facing that anger (finally) made me realize this has gone too far.

It wasn't the frustration, or the fear of yet another looming, lonely birthday staring me in the face. It wasn't the fact that since my dad passed eight years ago and I stepped in to take care of my grandmother, I have not been able to sustain a permanent job or relationship. It was the anger of it all that hit me like a sack filled with bricks. The anger of feeling controlled and being a bucket for which my grandma throws all of her dirty, sorrow-filled blame rags into. And with an open mouth, I kept gobbling it up. For eight years.

This blog was supposed to be about being a middle-class socialite. About living a somewhat free journey of transformation. But I don't have that freedom.
I am not who I am supposed to be. Then again, I don't even know who I am supposed to be.

I've always been fascinated by those women who led glorious, fantastic, unapologetic lives. Tied down by no one, bursting with talent and personality and passion. Their lives filled with interesting people. Maybe it's a fantasy, and like facebook happy details were highlighted. And mostly these women I admire lived during the 20's and 30's, but whatever. Diana Vreeland. I love her 'I'm who I am and don't care what you think' approach to anything and everything. And whatever wasn't entertaining or over-the-top about her life, she made up.
These women traveled everywhere. Lived every breath good and bad, with adventure. Even if those adventures weren't daily, they were there lurking around the corner, ready for the taking.

That's what I want.

Instead, yesterday I had to listen to my grandma chide me for not calling her back right away.  I was really busy that day with job interviews and phone calls, and had intended to call her later in the afternoon.

She was upset because I ordered several things off Amazon and had them delivered to her house. She was upset because the box was large and she had to struggle to push it into the other room (which I did not expect and felt bad). But, I think she was most upset because I took away yet another excuse for her to ask me to do something for her. Her way of pulling me to come visit her.


Now, I'm struggling to find a caregiver for her, and she's of course resistant to that idea. God-forbid I should live my own life.

Hopefully when all of this is over there will be a sliver left of being able to live my life. After all, since the day I was born, I've had to be the blame bucket for all of my mother's insecurities as well .

I am so done. That box of sleeping pills looks more and more delicious every day.