Perception

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Morning. Or evening.

Shifting perception. Not in the way of a camera focusing and then going out of focus; rather in the way of shifting your gaze minutely to the left or right.

Try it.

Stare at a point of something in front of you then shift your sight just slightly to the right.

The perception changes, if only a small amount.

I have taken this into consideration recently in how to work through my husband’s disappointment in my real estate pursuit. I really, really dislike real estate. A lot. A great deal. And as I do not have to do real estate, I have decided pretty much unequivocally that it is not for me. Even if I did have to do something like real estate, I would forego the “flexibility” of this hellish career for something a lot less flexible… like stocking shelves at the grocery store.

Anyway, off on a tangent: my point is that my husband is very disappointed and discouraged in my “quitter attitude.” I think he wanted me to be part of the real estate world because this kind of sales profession is his world. I believe, in a way, he felt a comradeship with me that does not exist otherwise. I mean, we have other connections and similar likes, but as sales is so much part of his life, my being in sales felt warm and fuzzy to him.

I feel bad about this, of course, because I hate the sales world he thrives in. He is very good at sales, and in many ways really enjoys the world.

I, on the other hand, pretty much tucked my tail between my legs and ran whimpering the other way. I should have known, of course… but as all things and every thing, hindsight is 20/20.

And now he is disappointed. And upset. And irritated.

At first, I took his reactions on as my own. I became defensive. I felt guilty. Bad. Like I had FAILED (again for the millionth time in my life), and I was down deep and dark in that old familiar way of the world sinking down on me. Thankfully, over the last four months I have regained a level of yoga practice and meditation that at least slowed the downward spiral. As such, I was able to create space and time to move through the experiences and the emotions, allowing an epiphany moment in the shower:

I must shift my perception of the situation.

As I remind my son on a pretty daily basis: we are only in charge of ourselves. We are not responsible for others and their actions. Ever.

Apparently, I need to be reminded of this daily as well, because I forgot. I forgot that my husband’s emotions of disappointment and irritation about me leaving real estate are HIS emotions. These are HIS reactions.

I am not responsible for them.

I think so many of us forget to follow our path, our instincts, emotions, body, and heart because we perceive what others think as a guidepost. But what others think is never a guidepost.

Of course, there are consequences to our actions; however, what other people think is not on you… ever. Can your actions cause rifts in a friendship, or family? Of course, and how YOU react to those things is entirely your responsibility, but never how THEY act or react.

Shifting perception.

Group think is a real and honest to goodness thing. It is an evolutionary pattern that has existed for centuries to create safety… safety in numbers, right? However, as we slowly emerge from the era of hunter and gatherer (and if you don’t think we are still in this evolution pattern, take a look around), trusting our own Truth, and our own Path is becoming something of more importance.

Now, I know my thoughts on this are very much dictated by a belief that we all have a reason for existence… a special and individualized purpose for our lives.

I also think, though, that our individualized purpose is for the greater good. As such, it is incredibly important to trust ourselves; to be able to root down, to move through life with that connection to something Bigger… despite, or perhaps even because of, how other people react.

So. Perception. Shifting the gaze just a little bit to the right.

A little bit to the left.

To see something new in something familiar.

Cliche Number Four Billion and Change

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I have become a cliche.

Ha!

This amuses me.

As I type, I sit on my couch. My son is playing Minecraft. He is currently killing a zombie will simultaneously trying to save  his best friend. In an hour I will take him to karate. He is four. He has a red-stripe belt and is very proud that he is the youngest, but highest ranking belt in his class.

Tomorrow, I will take him to four hours of preschool. I will go for a run while he is in school. I will go to the grocery store. I will do the random chores I have to do to keep the house running. It might include picking up a Papa Murphy’s pizza, or it might not. This depends entirely on whether or not the husband is feeling fat. If his stomach is protruding too far past his pants then pizza is out. I am not sure what is for dinner then.

Saturday I will go camping with my son and husband along with another father and his two boys. I will effectively be the mom of the weekend, which means that I must ensure that everyone has food, is somewhat clean, and in general does not die.

On Monday, I will take my son to school for his fours hours. I will come home and do laundry, go to the grocery store, vacuum, and clean the bathroom.

Tuesday there is no school. I will try very hard to keep my son from watching too much television and playing video games all day. I will take him to the store. I will take him to the park. He will end up watching too much television and playing too many hours of video games anyway.

I will take him to karate.

Repeat. Repeat.

I do our families finances. I cook our family food. I do our family laundry. I clean the family home.

I occasionally golf.

I try not to gain weight by running and doing the elliptical.

I cry almost every single day while standing in the shower because I am ashamed at how terrible I feel about the privileged life I lead.

I suppose, my dear reader, you saw that one coming.

The dichotomy between having the privilege that so many women covet, and the terrible, horrible guilt of being miserable in it. Not because it is hard, though it can be a challenge, but rather, because it is not hard.

My brain has atrophied.

I am dying.

And I have no answers.

I have chosen this life because it the best for my son. He does not have to go to a daycare. I am raising him, not someone else. He has someone who can take him to whatever extracurricular activity he wants to be involved in with no worries. I don’t have to juggle work and school schedules, or work and sickness. I am on call 100 percent of the time, and not just for my son. My husband works continuously. He has a one track mind. The only thing he is able to accomplish is work. I allow him the space to work like that by taking care of everything else. The world would cease to turn if he had to do anything more than work.

I have PURPOSEFULLY and with FULL UNDERSTANDING made the decision to have this life.

I am dying.

Not in a real physical sense. I am in good health. We all are, thankfully. I would never consider suicide because of my son. But it doesn’t change the feeling. The soul-sucking, I am becoming less and less and less of who I am. I losing. I am lost.

And I have no solution.

I went to a therapist the other day. She essentially told me to stop complaining about my awesome life. Ha! That’s the thing. I KNOW about my awesome life.

Why can’t my brain get with the program.

What can I do to change? I don’t like being miserable.

Do you?

This is anonymous. I don’t want the vultures to come down on me, reminding me of how much I should be thankful for… my husband reminds me constantly, wanting to know what the f*ck my problem is… if I knew, I would change the problem.

It is identifying the problem. Figuring out the solution.

Welcome to the cliche.