Wrinkled around the edges
I feel as if I am constantly scrambling to make sense of all that life is. I want to define all that is not, I want to find answers where I lack understanding. Every now and then I know that things are not black and white, and that there is not an answer for everything. Life truly is messy, confusing and beautiful all at the same time. I wish I could be rid of the messy part. I wish that I could have all of the good without the bad. Call me selfish, but I like to have my cake and eat it too.I get so frustrated with myself at times, because I feel like it should be an elementary skill to grasp that the world or at least my life will not always be pretty. Yet I still strive for neatness and order. Perhaps this has to do with my deep psychological malnutrition as a child.
Growing up, my mother was very unhealthy. She made a lot of choices in regard to our child-rearing that were not the best and that have effected the way that I perceive myself, the world, and how those intertwine. Basically I am saying I am a product of a screwed up family, like most of us these days. When I think upon my childhood, I recall the memories that cover me like black tar smears on a pristine white linen couch. The family that I grew up in is the reason that I view the world as it is. I need to make everything definable. I need to look well on the outside, because as my mom used to say, "What will people think if your clothes are wrinkled?" When I was younger I didn't care, the more time that passed the more aware I became of my appearance.
It was just this week that I realized all of the reason that I am so conscious of how I look is because of my mother. Most of you have seen my mother, she is beautiful. I, imagine that somewhere along the way, someone taught her the same thing. The reality is for most of my life I was orderly on the outside, but the inside was severely fawked up. Inside I had questions about who I was, where I was going, and if I was worth anything other than what people perceptions of me were. Over the years I have learned to iron my clothes, so that knowone will see that I am a bit wrinkled. I have cleaned my external so well, picked my language, clothes, ideologies, so well that knowone will know that I am a bit of a hedonist. Even in the midst of the confusion that looms over head, like crows above an oozing, bloody carcass, I know that it will eventually clear.
Even in the darkest of thoughts, there are the memories of the love that seeped through all of the ugliness at times and make it as if the tar stains were not there. It is amazing how the good always seems to outweigh the bad, no matter how bad it is. Love has the power to alleviate the deepest of hurts, even the ones that seem to not want to heal over.
Maybe I need to be ok that I get life is not neat 40% of the time. It is a start. Maybe I need to be ok with being a bit wrinkled around the edges.
posted by Kat @ 9:39 PM
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