Fragile Equation
Trying to align your purpose with your destiny is a fragile equation. If the thinking of those mentoring you isn't sound, you have no way of calibrating your answers. If those mentoring you are mentoring others as well, it's likely you'll have contradicting answers. If those answers became the foundation of the life you built, any other answer becomes a threat. Ultimately, trying to invent a purpose to fit a desired destiny gets you nada.
You listen for it. You identify what's remained unchanged in you while everything else was altered. You note the periods of time you think damaged you, and see if they shifted you in a direction that helped get you where you wanted to go. You recall how the people in your life provided for you, or denied what was needed, and trace from the present to the past to see which were integral. You trust.
This page offers a few anecdotes from the blueprint used to build me...
- My younger brother and sister used to joke that I was mom’s favorite. The trouble is they weren't joking. They were pissed off. Both have been strangers in my adult life. It always bothered me when they said that. A therapist I worked with assured me I wasn't her favorite. He pointed out that I was the only child my father beat, and she knew that. “You weren't her favorite”, he said, “She was protecting you. She let you get away with more than the others, so you wouldn't get beaten.”
- Professionals in the field of psychology have suggested that childhood trauma incurred through abuse and/or neglect can be more difficult to 'cure' than the Post Traumatic Stress war vets experience. It literally alters the person's identity. The fact that anyone who's been subjected to it, and preserved their authentic self, is significant.
- My mother heaped praise on me for anything I did. She was overcompensating for the neglect of my father. But I didn't want her validation. I wanted my father to recognize me. Any time I invested in who I was, and what came naturally, he was absent. So I abandoned it. I spent my youth trying to figure out what he loved, and how to become it. My adult life has been devoted to retrieving the parts I traded.
- I used to think I deserved the beatings my father gave, and the blame my family placed, like I had it coming. But I have 3 sons of my own now, so both those acts are incomprehensible to me. In fact, I've never hit anyone. But I do have violence in me. I carry the same rage my father carried, and my target is the same as his. I aim my violence inward, like I was taught. It's time to put an end to that, I think.
- Following my divorce, I lived in the family home. I was kicked out, and my ex moved in. I didn't have time to get my things together. She went through them all, and threw away what she didn't like, and never told me. I was then instructed to write a list of what I wanted, but not allowed to enter, and go through things on my own. Accepting where I was being led, I wrote a list naming these 4 things: My books, my music, my computer, and the futon Aidan wrote his name on (The first place my youngest son wrote his name- he wrote Aipan instead of Aidan). Two years later I was finishing an unpaid year of student teaching, and was approaching broke. I was behind with my storage unit payments, and the woman who owned the place had been very understanding. One day she called and said she needed the unit, and asked if I could pay. I couldn't, so I told her she'd done enough for me, and instructed her to sell whatever I had to make up for what I owed. She asked if I was sure. "I've been without it for awhile, so I know I don't need it, and I owe you money. If I still believe the only way to preserve a memory is with a photo, or an item, then I haven't learned how to preserve a memory. It needs to be held in the heart if you really want to hold it. Yes, you can sell it all." I haven't shopped at a department store since (I use the 'free' section on Craigslist for big items, and thrift stores the rest), and I'm happier than when I had everything. I learned to define myself another way. My ex didn't know it when she was doing it, but she did the exact thing my family had done, and told me I was irrelevant. She allowed me to learn what I hadn't learned completely. My significance isn't measured by others, or by me. It's measured by the conviction to embody what I was entrusted to become.
- I haven't made a lot of money teaching and coaching, which is what I do now. But I know, beyond a doubt, I've helped at least 3 people to have a better life. All 3 of those people were reluctant to let me in when I met them, and when they did, they made it clear our relationship was dependent upon me understanding what they really needed, not what I needed to give. Those 3 people introduced me to the 'purpose' I'd waited so long to find, and to what, exactly, I'd been 'chosen' to do. Those 3 people, and what they needed, was where I recognized, for the first time, where my past (my family, my loss, and my pain) had been leading, all along. Without them, I never would have understood that all I'd been asked to survive was preparing me with everything I'd need to help them. That's a ridiculously brilliant design, when you see it. Those 3 people taught me to trust everything life puts in front of me, and to accept the pain in every loss, to embrace each coincidence. Just by agreeing to let my life come into contact with theirs. They were the first people who allowed me to be myself, and do what I was made to do.
Best of all, all three of those people were children.
Goo Goo Dolls "not broken"
Fort Frances "habits"
