Skip to main content

Awareness

Maybe it's because I always explore what people mean when they say or write things. Maybe it's my interest in where things come from, thoughts, moods, opinions. I've always been able to sift through the facade people put up and see their true words, sometimes finding that they aren't aware themselves. We love catching people in Freudian slips and oohing to embarrass them, but that isn't what I mean. I mean being aware. I'm painfully aware of my surroundings. I've been so for a long time and maybe it's that I like to cherish the things that might make me remember something, with senses other than just sight.

A few weeks back, I may even have written about it, I smelled a floral bouquet and it reminded me of a scent someone used. It was in a body wash or some other after bath gel, but it was something I became quite fond of, even if I never said. Then the other day I saw a shadow on the wall and it reminded me of a time when my insomnia started. The memory wasn't of a pleasant time, but it took me back to ones that eventually were. I think over the years my awareness has done more harm than good. I've suspected children who were beaten, some worse and I can't always say, because that uncertainty can be costly.  The one thing I have noticed with this acute sense, is how little it affects others. I am absolutely amazed at how unaware people are of what they say and do, even regarding the most seemingly insignificant things.

Maybe it's sheer pettiness or maybe it's an unconscious shout. A written page, masked in an ode to someone gone, but merely a cry for someone much different to return. The inability to check what is needed, even when it stares at you, possibly falling into your hands. Empty containers, not jiggled before a shop, then the incessant whine of how someone forgot. The question isn't how did you forget, but how do you never check? The purposeful waste, because it gets a rise, but is it my disdain for spoiled food or my incredible disdain for passive aggressive behavior that brings this on? Like I've written before, this irony in writing this, but when your words and your feelings are ignored, you're left with little choice.

But then, the real issue. How far are you willing to take it. Choosing the admiration of some sniveling twit over the love of your family is one thing, but to then bring others into it. To have them turn against someone, because you're too weak to admit your failures. That's what bothers me and makes me wonder; how the mere attention of a pet, who simply craves affection and food, can turn someone so cruel.  Or is it something else? Is it simply a lack of any understanding of what is happening? A breakdown of coherent thought? Is it possible, the door left open for the animal to wander off wasn't done on purpose and maybe it's something physiological? It's not the first time doors are left unlocked, lights on, TVs, screens left open with damning verse and romantic overtures that were denied months back. Those usually pair with the stench of some brandy and whatever else was guzzled down to make the distance shrink.

And I am stuck, hobbling around, viewing half of this by mistakes after mistake, but how many mistakes before I start to really wonder, if this is for real or all part of a plan. If turning me away is the desire, it's not only been effective, but it's set in stone. I'm aware now, after months of reflection of how selfish people I've trusted have been. I ended my life, as I knew it, to care for another, while others lead their lives as always. Never once seeing the struggle, consumed with how illness impeded their own comfort. I'd be lying to call it an epiphany, because self-centered behavior doesn't just appear. It's been there since my first memories, but I thought it normal, like so many I know respond to a wooden spoon or leather belt with nostalgia, my beatings were different, merely forsaking my own happiness for someone else's. I'm aware now and just waiting for that door to be left open for me, with no responsibility for another's comfort holding me back. It must be nice to live, never ever being aware of others. I need that, if even just for a bit, but then someone else will call and I won't be able to turn my back and the worst part is, they know it.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

11 Rules of Life - Bill Gates?

I read this on Facebook this morning.  A friend had posted it and said that every child should have to receive this. I of course read it and started to think.  I immediately wondered who really wrote this, as I rarely see things like this attributed to the proper person.  I immediately found it was written by Conservative Charles J. Sykes when he wrote a book about how America is dumbing down our youth.  I read it twice and started to wonder how true it was.  Below is a link to the actual picture I saw.





So let's look at each of the rules and analyze them.

Rule 1: Life is not fair — get used to it! - Life is not fair in that we are not all afforded the same opportunities based on race, creed, color, socio-economic background, but in general, those who are afforded the same opportunities to succeed are very often rewarded for their individual efforts.  Sure there may be underlying circumstances, but hard work is proven to pay more often than not and those who strive for success, migh…

Out Of Options

Two winters ago, I was in a bad place. Physically, financially, but especially emotionally. Life, which has rarely been anything I could view as fair, had really begun to weigh me down. I was living in a motel room, paid for by my brother while awaiting a move to another state. A little late research revealed my soon-to-be new home was a bit of a nightmare. Think of Melrose Place with meth and hookers. The idea of flying halfway across the country with my cat, Swag, and less than $200 in my pocket was scary. Leaving everything I knew wasn't what scared me, it was knowing deep in my heart, I'd never return. 
It's always easy to put off keeping up with people when you're close, but as I've learned over the last four years, distance tests friendships, even those we view as true. One can't imagine the alienation of being broke, physically unable to walk, and having to rely on a motel staff's daily pleasantries to remind yourself you're alive. At times I que…

In Memoriam

For Shane

Yesterday, I sat in the library, thinking of you. As I pored over vegan recipes, tales of medieval monks, and descriptive biography of Yasujiro Ozu, I thought about you more. Who else could I call and discuss all three? Who else would be able to add insight to my last meal, movie, and chapter? I was tempted to walk, arrive work sweaty, but feeling accomplished, but a bump in the rode arose and I found myself driving. You'd have scoffed, claimed I took the easy way or accused me of always avoiding the circuitous route, in favor of ease. I'd agree, then buy you a beer.

Last night, I thought about us twenty-five years ago, maybe more. Rows of six dimes stacked on the bar. Cold Schaefer puckering our lips. Commenting on the old-timers, of which I am now one. You're not here to share those moments, that repartee or the serious moments we often shared. With every meal, movie and mountain life throws at me, I miss you more. There were years where we only spoke once. Thi…