Posts Tagged ‘support

02
Mar
18

A Family Imbalanced

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I am, once again, working through some deep-seeded feelings and–if you the reader so decide to give it–get some input.  In this age of short attention spans, I consider it amazing if the average reader can digest all I have to say.  [So, pat yourself on the back if you do.  And, if you’ve read similar thoughts in previous posts of mine, bare with me; it wouldn’t surprise me if I repeated.

NOTE:  If all you do is click LIKE on this post, I will be annoyed because I don’t know what you hope to achieve by doing that.  And, I will feel like a spectacle, standing in public in my underwear.

What inspired this purging of the soul?  Recent events in which I have been giving much of my time and energy to my family and seen little in return.  Sometimes my offers of assistance and input are rejected, with or without mention of how I should live my life differently.  That reaction seems to run in the family (myself included, under certain circumstances).  I just wish someone would step up and say, “Now, what can I do to help YOU?” Or, “How are you coming with ___?  Need any help?”

I seem to be more willing to help my family (and anyone who triggers sympathy in me) than they are willing (and/or able) to help me.  Granted, they have loaded their hands with fairly full lives of their own while I struggle to “get myself together.”  I cannot offer much more than my helping hands, remaining mobility, “over-thinking” and sympathetic brain (for working out all of those little mental wrinkles that plague those with failing memories or certain problems that need solving)…and patience.  And, if a member of my family did anything that shocked or upset my “code,” I might be less willing to offer help.

[IE If someone chose to get drunk and go broke, I might have a hard time offering financial or even emotional support.  That is, in part, because I’ve never let myself be so careless and cannot relate; I don’t feel like I have the “coping skills” to deal with that situation.  I could easily hand over money and risk leaving myself in financial danger, but I am resistant–for whatever reason–to do so.  And, I’ll get more into that sort of situation in a moment.]

It’s actually somewhat amazing I am willing to help my family, at all, when, some years ago, I was at a serious crossroads with the core of my being, and my family essentially looked the other way, treating me like a misfit of society who didn’t want to “go with the flow.”  [Which is ironic after years of chasing fads only to be told this behavior was costly and pointless.]  I realize solitude and defending myself so long has depleted my resistance and left me more in need of human contact and cooperation.

Long ago, in my late teens, I wanted a fresh start, a makeover of sorts.  And, if anyone supported the entities that rubbed me the wrong way, I withdrew from those supporters to defend myself, rather than accept people simply telling me I am crazy for being so troubled by something they saw as harmless.  [This came with trusting professionals with my life and feeling my life was threatened by those professionals.]  All I knew at the time was I needed to purge my being of what felt like a serious mistake, similar to atoning for a sin.  And, my family, my foundation, my roots, stood in the way.

[You might hear or read sources that say you should “be” and “love” yourself.  I have felt unable to do that thoroughly because I continually run into opposition, including family.  If you like metaphors, it’s sort of like being a young bird wanting to fly and having your wings either torn to shreds or weakened by lack of proper nutrition.]

Now, this endured for many years, me unable to trust my family with just about anything and feeling misunderstood.  I had no privacy, no freedom to maintain a room of my own (design) as I saw fit.  [If I left the house, I’d return home many days to find my possessions rearranged, altered or missing.  Thus, each time I wanted to leave home, I couldn’t help being concerned and was denied the option to use locks to secure my space.]  I survived by doing what I had been told to do since I was little…keep myself busy.  But, this wasn’t advancing my life in any good way I could see.  When I wanted to have “adult” discussions, no one could cope with my rapid-firing concerns/hesitation.  And, if they felt like bringing up old news–like that time I was trying to put behind me–any chance of cooperation went down in emotional flames rather quickly.

[Again, ironic, considering another member of the immediate family has had several makeovers and never once had to worry about his own room being invaded/rearranged.]

A bothersome pattern involves me buckling whenever I hesitate to try/do something and seek input from family.  I’m reluctant to ask, worrying about the response I may get.  And, if the response comes with some measure of judgment, objection, insult/offense or resistance, I give up the quest for assistance/input and recoil into a troubling state of helplessness.

Add to this my inability to do just about anything for myself, including stepping outside my comfort zone (if you can even call what I had comforting) to meet new people, to socialize, and I am a rather handicapped individual going nowhere.  Before I stopped going (and began fighting to defend my decision), I couldn’t even go to mass/church with family without feeling lacking in their acceptance, feeling a bit like a reject and enemy.  The church was supposed to be my sanctuary, and it couldn’t be; not with my family and social anxieties.

This is just the tip of the emotional iceberg.  And, after giving these thoughts a few hours of my time, I am feeling lost in thought and depleted.  So, without knowing what else to say, I will stop here.  If I feel up to it, later, I will revise/add to these thoughts.

* I am writing this in addition to a previous post about lacking love and friendship. *

 

01
Apr
15

Fight On, Avril (Lavigne); I Salute You…

…but promise me I’ll never catch you faking.  No, no, no.

I heard about Avril, a lovely Canadian singer who looks smaller and younger than her last reported age of…well, you look it up.  She is reported to have been bitten by a nasty tick which gave her an onset of Lime Disease.  But, when she went in to see a doc and report the symptoms, they didn’t take her seriously.  So, she started adjusting her lifestyle to combat what was troubling her.

So, was/is it Lime Disease?  Or, something else?

Either way, from what the media said she was doing to take care of herself, I saw a piece of myself in the effort.  I feel she and I would get along well.  She’s got “writing chops.”  So, I continue to support and hold a torch for her.  [As long as this isn’t some April Fool’s situation.  I have low tolerance for lies and fake anything.  Which is why I started this piece with that lyric of hers.]

Who’s with me?

12
Jan
15

Profound Thoughts: Do Not Give “Her” a Name

And now, it’s time for more Profound Thoughts with Writingbolt…

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I imagine meeting someone like George Clooney and having a discussion about love and his recent marriage. And, I can hear him telling me, a guy who has yet to come close to any relationship remotely resembling marriage, to go out and find my Amal.

Considering he went as long as he did as a bachelor after a broken marriage left him numb…and the odds of a long, successful/happy marriage in the modern world…there’s one thing I’d have to tell him.

Do not give “her” a name.

Imagine if you met a married someone who told you the same. What if–dare I say it–something unpleasant were to happen to their “one true” love? Does that then mean that your “friend” wanted you to meet/marry someone who would leave you?

You know what I’d say to that? Thanks a lot, you jerk! What kind of crap speech is that?

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10
Jul
14

Do You Attach Your Face to Things You Do Not Like/Use?

Have I already told you how much I get irked by advertising and any spokesperson/”news anchor” who seems locked into either only saying good things about everything they are forced to pitch** or spreading foul gossip? It just happens to be something that has built up an intolerance in me at this time. Thus, I am taking this moment to release some mental debris.

[You like picking your way through other people’s thoughts; right? If so, have at this lot. But, you may want to bring along a snack and/or beverage as I get a little “windy.”]

**You’re honestly going to see every movie you mention whether it suits your interest or not? Sure you are. Maybe if someone pays you a favorable sum just to do it. But, I guarantee you won’t like every last one. Still, you will sit with a fabricated smile upon your plastic face and tell the world how great they all are because, for some twisted reason, your paycheck depends upon such nonsense.

[Some would say I have too much free time if I let such things bother me. They don’t watch TV or don’t see what I do. They say I give such things too much thought when they and/or others just let them be. And, perhaps, they use them without thinking as much. To each their own.]

In a magazine, newspaper or one of the many lame “flash” slots you find on a PC/tablet/phone screen, you may only get a static image of someone modeling for a product/service. And, there’s a good chance the model’s image has absolutely nothing to do with the product (other than, perhaps, the environment in which the product may be used).

[“That woman is dressed for the office. That product must be good for my suffocating work station. Surely, it will make me feel better at the end of my shift.”
OR
“That man is dressed for the office. I should add that (potentially addictive/hazardous, ridiculously small and ineffective sample size) product to the (senseless and wasteful) swag bags for all of my employees at the next company function and shake hands with the representative/s for the manufacturer to boost revenue/merger/buyout potential.”]

In some hastily assembled cases, the ads use images snatched from web sites/online photo galleries (with proper permission/payment, we assume). Does that model truly support or use the product advertised with their face/body? Probably not. More likely, the model needed money and was willing to pose in some outfit they did not pick themselves before their image was used for all sorts of merchandising and questionable services in the hands of countless “businesses.”

How low it must be to buy/borrow/steal these models and slap them in some ad like a common hand or package. Sure, maybe the models signed themselves over to partake, but does that mean those seeking representation have to morally cheat or buy up every/any “prostitute” in town? What if the product/service is assuredly bogus/worthless or corrupt? How sad it must be to see your face on an ad for a product/service you don’t personally approve. I personally would not want my face/artwork/image in one for something toxic like sex “toys,” cigarettes or pills of any kind promising benefits at the expense of retirement/daily necessity funds and baffling side effects. How sad it is to see what people will do for a buck only to cost countless others their bucks for no good reason/result.

With “televised” commercials, it’s quite similar if not worse. I think it’s worse to invest more time exposing oneself as a spokesperson/representative of a product/service one doesn’t support (or filming a scene without knowing what it will be used to support/promote). How sad to be a struggling actor/actress forced to take on such a mindless role in hopes of proving oneself worthy of licking the lint off the wardrobe of some “bigger name” who offers a “better” job. I don’t think I’d feel so good about my fame and limited fortune with some undesirable commercial (or “porn”) in my history book. I sure don’t want to end up on some talk show where the host thinks it’s positively amusing to dig up that soulless garbage.

I see an add for some “tragic” disease or ailment attributed to the use of some form of modern medicine, and it features a young man or woman with his/her head in their hands. I can only imagine the photographer telling this individual to look depressed/hopeless in order to boost sales of the “cure.” If the person is genuinely afflicted by the ailment, I suppose there might be some “justice” in getting the word out. Yet, those who know the person might pester them more often rather than be of any help/support. If the person is just an actor/model…who wants to be the poster child for a potentially fatal disease?!

Every now and then, I imagine myself being “famous” and trying to be selective about what talk shows I visit while some agent insists I have to make an appearance on some crappy one lest I take a dive into fan bankruptcy. If forced to appear before some immoral/amoral host, I tell myself not to partake in their misguided amusement and verbally/publicly speak out against them if they cross my boundaries. I’d rather save the trouble of scandal and lawsuit, skip the chicken feed to maintain my overpriced and exceedingly large mansion in range of brush fires or other natural disasters and keep all relationship details hidden away like a hermit.

The more I hear of actors/actresses not wanting to watch themselves on film, seeing therapists and/or being stalked by paparazzi, the less I like the idea of “fame.” I’d like to kick all those “camera mosquitoes” where the sun doesn’t shine for harassing/disrupting the lives of these “celebrities” whether the latter ask for more attention or not. And, if they ask for cameras to risk blinding them or stealing every shred of privacy for tabloid bull crap, how sick is that? What body part do they sacrifice first to ease some twisted part of their brains? What separates the side-effects of fame from the closet habits of other mentally troubled souls who resort to “cutting” and eating disorders?

In recent years, it’s been made easier. You don’t need an agent. Just make your own or get someone to set up a plot in cyberspace and fill it with all sorts of mental dust bunnies. Do you really need to know what I eat for breakfast or what I am wearing to get through your day/life? Not unless you’re taking notes on how to be a stalker.

Seriously, what is the sense of all this excess information tracking? How is this helping people to interact peacefully or to simplify their lives? How is this beneficially entertaining unless you are actual friends with these people, sharing this information when you meet for (lunch)? In an ideal world of people struggling to ask each other out on dates, I suppose such detailed “bios” might grease the wheels with surprises of one’s favorite this or that. But, from my observation, the odds seem to be in favor of abusing/misusing provided information. At least, the “water” seems too polluted with gossip, scandal and threats to one’s life to be of any serious benefit…unless you somehow feed/live off of such vices.

But, I suppose, I could save breath, and we could all just stop exposing our eyes (and ears) to advertising/video as a whole. Ay?

Suppose, many years from now, we all want to laugh and/or cry for investing in all of these all-in-one gizmos designed to do everything from light the dark spaces under our furniture to manage our daily activities and bank accounts yet fall apart at great expense in the clumsiest of hands. Suppose we learned sooner than later not to put all of our eggs in one expensive basket and lived without tools that still rely on batteries and risk radiation poisoning with consequences yet to be fully understood/seen. Suppose we did something about filling landfills with trending garbage and sacrificing our dignity/privacy/health to false quick fixes. Suppose we said “adios” to all things internet and televised/advertised/radio-broadcasted and started focusing on producing what we needed in peace and harmony with the rest of nature. I imagine that would have some gloomy side effect of its own, unleashing some other unpleasant, dark cloud upon the masses for not submitting themselves to the questionable imagery and sales pitches.

[Now, suppose I wrote all of this for nothing and didn’t have digital/internet space to fill with these thoughts. I suppose I’d share it the old way, face-to-face, with whoever I found willing to share such thoughts in my proximity.]

If anything is to be learned from superheroes and related kids shows, it’s that–no matter how you dress it up–there will perpetually be some scum out there we have to either elude or fight off til the next crap maker comes along to pester us. The enemy doesn’t wear colorful or stereotypical costumes and/or fully disclose their diabolical plans to the world. Nor are the creatures that lurk in the shadows as dangerous as what humans can and often do inflict upon themselves/their fellow “man.” We “citizens” have to be more aware and make better decisions to save ourselves in more ways than we care to ponder.

24
Jun
14

If I Created Everything That Entered My Imagination…

 

 

…I’d quickly run out of space and run the risk of exhausting the world’s resources. 

 

I have countless “seed” ideas for movies, books/stories, cartoons, bird houses….you name it.  Give me a niche that needs filling, and I’ll likely fill the gap with something refreshing/mind-blowing (provided you like what I invent).  But, I can’t see how I’d ever complete every project I think of all by myself…nor where I’d store them all.

I see plenty of talents creating larger and larger portfolios/galleries of work.  And, I can’t help wondering where they put it all.  How much it costs them.  And, who lovingly supports/accepts them and all their “clutter.”  What a different world that seems to be from what I’ve had to contend with…and how I now look at crafting/creating anything.  I look in a direction more practical and beneficial than I once did as a kid.  Yet, so many others seem free to be kids and create as they please without any fear of consequence or making the errors they consistently make.

Am I “old,” “wise” or something worse?

13
Nov
13

That Song; Guiding Light or Bug Zapper?

In a world that seems to be increasingly consumed by what I am inclined to call unnecessary and/or discouraging crap, something comes along to nudge my shoulder and tell me to keep my chin up, to keep trudging along and keep my eyes open for the silver lining in the dark clouds before me.  In recent years, this comes in the form of song.  On a particularly lousy day, I turn on my headset and hit the trail on foot.  And, suddenly, I hear a song that speaks to me (among all the other either lousy or bothersome stations).

This song burns brighter than any other.  It cuts through the fog like a lighthouse.  It can’t quite pull me to shore on its own.  But, it definitely is reaching out to me, telling me to get off my wet diaper and learn to walk, again.  ‘Telling me to not give into the darkness and fear…even if it seems all I can do is either hide in a ditch or get mad and rebellious.  ‘Telling me to keep the eye of the tiger and let people hear me roar.  ‘Telling me to be a firework and look for that door that opens when others seem to be closing.  ‘Telling me to build something sensible though others are too busy burning down what they built so high.  ‘Telling me to set myself free and stomp on the grave because I’m here forever or whatever.

On the other side of the coin, music is a drug.  If I listen to sad songs, I can drift out to sea in sadness.  If I listen to angry music, I need to run full tilt or punch something.  If I listen to love/happy songs, I usually imagine myself having fun with some beautiful woman…and then come to my senses with a sigh.  When the music stops, it can leave me with withdrawal symptoms.  Thus, I must moderate my listening time.  And, even the best song can wear out its appeal when the station plays it to death.

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