Growing Up Stage by Stage

I've been thinking about the diferent stages of maturity and of the process as a whole. This is of course based on my own experience but I suppose it's the same for everyone. I'll tell you how it's been in my particularly case though. My starting point is college...

Growing up Stage by Stage

So I'm a freshman studying international relationships, and in less that a year I am also with child and married. Fast huh? Though I continued to go to the university while at the same time I tried to wrap my head around being a mom and a wife, my rationality was only slightly distrurbed, whereas I was in a stage I shall call Sheep Nature. I did what I thought best (which curiously enough was in line with most "authority figures" point of views) and kept going, kept walking, led docily. I was a young student/mom with an inherently sweet smile, a (usually) pacifying nature and high boiling point. Which invited help that allowed me to continue my education, and for which I am deeply grateful. Cooking recipes, house keeping tips, and how to be a "proper"wife included.

Sounds good huh? It's obvious that I was pretty passive, allowing what might be considered a certain amount of doting to come my way. The fact that I made very few decisions and had little to do with what happened around me didn't bother me, I just felt thankful and a little guilty.

However, this knowledge started to gnaw on me. I needed help, that's for sure, but did I really need it that badly? Did the fact that I was in my early twenties make me less apt to be a mother than older women? Or my nomadic past? Was I particularly sloppy in my housekeeping because of my upbringing? Did a appear to be meek and childish? Weak? Was I?

Some how, I felt like a little girl, not as capable as I'd felt before. I started to become more sensible to the condescention that was implied each time I received help. Frases like "she can't help it," "what can you expect if it's not what she's used to?" stung deep within me. Even the dumbest, littlest thing would silently aggravate me, and even though I knew they were meant with the best intentions, with no maliciousness at all, the mere amount of this kind of events started to piss me off.

And so began my Rebelious Stage. I began to be respondona, to talk back which apparently didn't add up to my "sweet"nature. True to my diplomatic calling, I don't believe I was ever rude though I was called cheeky on several occassions. I started to try and put emotional, even physical distance with what bothered me even if it made my workload bit heavier. And I started to let go, even reject, some of the guilt I'd felt up until then.

Before, there had been few times that I  had refused a suggestion. And when I did I would have this apolegetic smile, like a child humoring an adult as he got away with something he wanted. That's changed now, and though I still have that tendency with specific people, it's started to decrease as my guilt ebbs away. .

I'm not a lightbulb, but I have a brain and know how to use it. Perhaps my grades don't always reflect that, but they're not bad either. If you consider the relatively small amount of time I dedicate to studying, you can also imagine how well I'd do I organized my time better.

I won't wring your neck if you change the TV show I was watching, or if you insist I use a certain dress instead of the one I'd already chosen for a wedding. Being at I odds with others is common, and I won't win every dispute I'm presented with. So I chose my battles. I don't fight those that I don't really care about. But don't think I'm instinctively acquiescent lest you wish to be unpleasantly suprised.

The rest of the process is all blended together because I'm still in the midst of it. I sometimes feel like a crab, taking one step forward and one step back... sometimes I feel like I've finally achieved Independence, but since I'm not totally used to it I start to Wobble and doubt and lean on others.

I feel vulnerable, telling y'all about this. But at the same time it's like a Confirmation of my progress, evidence of my goals and a refusal to go back. You're my witness, and this is the commitment that I've made with myself.

Thank you for reading, and I hope your own process is going well.

Love,
Nancy B.

Don't Grow Up... It's a Trap! - part I

I recently saw a very funny pic that caught my attention. It said " Don't grow up.. It's a trap!" (See pic). And I couldn't agree more. Don't get me wrong, I'm not referring to youthful irresponsability nor anything like it. There's just a huge difference between growing up, growing old and ripening.

From my view point, growing up is something like conforming or adapting to the "adult" world: go to school, or get a job,to work, to become boring, get married, have kids, pay your taxes...etc. To a certain extent we can't escape from this, it's natural that life goes on and our circumstances and responsibilities have to change, but not necesarily us you know. I'm sure a regular individual is capable of retaining the essentials of their character as the years pass by even though their personality adapts and morphs depending on the circumstances.

Remember that our character depends on the inner traits that distinguish us from others, while personality is the mask we show the world, the way we face it. Maybe you have a playful nature, but when you're in a bussiness meeting you won't display that trait very often will you? Though there is a time and a place for everything, one is genuine in proportion to how the personality reflects the character. Growing up does mean being more "responsable", but the process doesn't have to change you, much less force you to conform to the likings of others or become "boring."

Growing old... is a sad, sad thing. Physically aging is not sad: what's sad is when as a person grows older and their mind is too lazy or just doesn't want to mature at the same rate. And so, we have thirty year olds, forty year olds that behave like teenagers and have tantrums like little kids. They don't understand the value of responsability, of a relationship... worse still, if they got married or have kids. It's one thing to be feckless, and another thing completely to drag others into it, specially children. The poor little things have paid way too many times for their parents mistakes.

And last of all, my favorite: Ripening. Just like a delicious fruit that you savor when it's ripe... that's what we should all aim at. It's knowing oneself, and respecting and appreciating oneself with the passing of time. We're all so wonderful and full of life and energy as children... wouldn't it be great if we could somehow keep and project all of that as adults? Sure, it's not the same things that worry us as children and as adults, and the latter are also much more tired as the norm, but isn't it worth the effort?

To accept oneself, to love oneself... to be proud of who you are. To allow our minds to be suprised by the big and little things... to smile as a butterfly passes by, to wonder where the leaves in the wind have been, to ask questions... to be like children in our hearts. What an incredible gift not only to ourselves, but to those that will follow in our footsteps, those around us. It's so easy to go with the flow and allow ourselves to give in to that frown more often, to wear a scowl, to answer bitingly instead of looking for a positive solution. But let's not give in: it is well worth it.

 Let's all ripen shall we? We'll enjoy life so much more.

Forks

You know, my reading has been very ecclectic of late: with common ground, but contradictory. With repeated themes but viewed with different paradymes. Some well known, some totally unknown. Subjects ranging as far as psychology, phylosophy, religion, politics... (I've been using my bus time well! x) If I allowed these new thoughts true entry into my brain and heart they would pivot me in new ways and new paths.

No matter what I read I'm usually very good at filtering the new information into
a) The brain. Archived as information or culture, but not really letting it seep into me or
b) My heart. Where I allow thoughts the liberty to materialize in my behavior or worldview.

But now my own logic has been trying to make me adjust my judgement. So I would come back with my head full of new information and my heart filled with confusion.

Thankfully, the wave has passed and reflecting on all this I've come to see this process in a different light.

Of course I'll find different viewpoints than I'm used to if I don't discriminate my readings. If I wanted to avoid the clash of ideas I would discriminate what I read and shut myself up in my comfort zone. But I don't want to do that, I refuse.

On the other hand, it's perfectly normal to encounter new things, it's healthy. It's part of the thesis + antithesis = sinthesis that flows in this dialectic world. It's necessary.

Hmmm...

Wisps of smoke

I confess myself a complex and contradictory being, with halfhearted whims, powerful outbreaks and irrational inconsistencies. A romantic and realistic heart and soul. I thrive in my silent contemplations, as I close my eyes and free my soul forgetting reason and reality and I am a queen and a pauper, a danser, a damsel, and a poet.

As a queen I am haughty and arch my neck and my head bows to no one. And my choice is backed by power and I relish in it and in the power of my decisions. And I choose to be cruel or forgiving and the realization of each caprice and desire of mine depends on my wish of making them true or not.

And then I am a pauper and I thirst water and hunger bread. And I am thankful for each drop of rain that quenches my thirst and for each morsel that no matter the taste I find delicious because I managed to eat. And I thank the warm wind for being my coat and the world for being my home.

Then a noise arouses me from my slumber and my eyes open once more and I am who I used to be. And I stroke my babys hair and I caress her cheek as she sleeps and then so do I.

When again I see I am a passionate dancer and my skirt swirls like a river and my steps have the beat of fire. My hands and my eyes speak with each move, each stop, each curve I make soundlessly. And I am an object of awe and admiration, completely out of reach and slightly out of mind.

Then there is silence and my dress is bleached and the wild in my eye disappears and I am a sweet and fragile damsel. And I clutch at my throat and I shut my eyes and hug my knees and hide. I am scared and shut my heart and my mind and lie still in the pureness of my soul.

When I stand I am poet and my lips tingle and my eyelids bat and my stomach quivers from feelings that aren't there. And my love and my woes, my hopes and my fears pour out of my heart and my soul until I feel empty but find this emptiness oddly filling and satisfaction is mine. 

I am a somewhat ashamed and somewhat proud that I allowed these wisps of smoke escape from my mind while the thoughts and desires that mothered them have never yet seen the sun and the window of their materializing is incredibly small. 

And I pretend I am not all these things and I pretend that I am too.

And they exist. And they do not.

To walk and to digress

I walk down a street and look a lot but don't always see. I think back, remember and recall, and as the picture comes back to me I really do See.

I remember the beautiful flower shops I saw that day. The stunning colors and hues and shapes. The fragrant smell but I walk past it.

I remember this old woman begging on the side of the road. She's always there in the afternoon,  think someone leaves her at noon and picks her up at dusk. Sometimes I can give her a little money, sometimes I can't, but still I walk past her.

I remember these guys that whistled as I passed by. I can't avoid feeling flattered and disgusted since I know that they'll do the same to the next girl that passes. And so, feeling indifferent and uncomfortable, I walk past them.

I think of my past and of my present, but rarely in my future. That I'll leave to the infrequent but undeniably periodic  insomnia that sometimes haunts me. I think in hard facts of what I've done and what I've got to do during the day: I can only fantasize whilst stillnes surrounds me. I account this and walk past it.

I keep walking and walking for the sake of exercise and my mind wanders again and again as the closet philosopher that I am blooms in this silence. I cherish this alone time because I know that as soon as I'm home and needed I will walk past it and become practical and available to the world. Whereas I walk in my lonesome I am not.

I've found that the difference between Looking and Seeing is both emotional and mental. To See you don't always need to Look, because you See when you think about what you're experimenting, or how it makes you feel. When you think and when you feel you See because you get mentally or emotionally involved. To Look without Seeing is cynical, but let's not forget that if cynical had a good side, it would be a self defense issue taken to the extreme.

And so, I am thankfull for this lonely walk because of the physical benefits of walking, and the mental and emotional ones of being free to be in silent contemplation. And I am also thankfull for its end, because it means I am blessed with time with my loved ones once more.

PD: The cherry tree has nothing to do with this post, but I just love this pic I found on the internet! Also, I think it ilustrates a little the dreamy haze I sometimes experiment when I digress in this manner.