disillusioned – Page 2 – God is in the Outcome

Worry. Apprehension. Uncertainty. Vexation. Disquiet. Anxiety. Doubt.

So many words to describe such a hazardous, emotional behavior. I have always thought myself to be an optimist but have awakened to a rude new discovery. Somewhere along the crooked path that has become the road map of my life, I have pulled a light-blocking curtain between myself and positivism. My rose-colored glasses have become scratched and somehow their shape is warped, seeming to improperly fit my face. Confidence, exhilaration, self-assurance and even sanguineness all seem to have taken flight as well. These words, these “things” that once exuded from my very pores and encompassed my whole outlook on life and which also defined whom I was to others, now appear to have waltzed off in some lively dance toward another banquet affair that must have seemed more appealing to attend than my own. My own soiree has somehow become less enticing to such honored guests.

Now, as I sit like a wallflower lamenting my misfortune at having been the less-appealing option for the ever-sought “popular crowd” of emotions and behavioral accoutrements, I am at a loss for methods of captivating their attentions once again. How can I lure these seemingly elusive characters back to my daily demeanor? I brawl daily with the darkened antonyms of my desired disposition, thrashing and deflecting in a fruitless skirmish against intangible adversaries. I do not know how to struggle against the unseen or to traverse a path around their camp in order to reach my own prior enchanting encampment. The glow of twinkling lights that identify the convivial mindset to whence I wish to return seem to tease and taunt me from the distance at times, but only when I even become aware that they have been replaced by sinister counterparts.

The metamorphosis of my overall perspective has been so subtle over many years that I scarcely noticed the change. At one time people would have described me as buoyant, lighthearted, cheerful, spirited and positive. I most always had a contagious smile and reflected a persona that was repeatedly referred to as “bubbly”. With these personality traits also came encouragement and reinforcement for others who struggled against despair or even just a plateau of uniformity in their own lives. I wanted others to be capable of experiencing the joie de vivre that I enjoyed. I am perplexed by the realization that I am no longer that individual and by the oddly imperceptible journey that has led me here.

Yesterday was one of the days that allowed, nay, demanded that I recognize the transformation of my identity. Having received news to be thankful for, the fact that I had fretted needlessly over these results for days struck me with the force of a lightning strike. Minutes, hours, days spent imagining what would need to be done had the outcome been negative. Everyone battles anxiety at times yet my “old self” would have said “don’t borrow trouble” or “no sense in worrying over what may not be”. The concerns would have been floating around behind my thoughts rather than taking them over with the rumble of a volcano about to erupt.

Today I am searching for an alley in which to duck until the villainous qualities have dashed past my hiding place and lost me in their pursuit. I want to stand quietly there until they are out of sight and then scamper quickly in the opposite direction towards my old companions whose company was always substantially more affable and satisfying. Enchantment, vivacity, mirth and hopefulness must be just down the road, if only I can see the horizon on which the sun is setting so as to get my bearings…

Trudging backwards…wish me luck.

Liz’s friend: “What word are you?” Liz: “Hmm…started off as daughter. Was pretty good at that. Wife…not so good at that. Girlfriend…not so good.” Friend: “Maybe you are a woman in search of a word…” ~ Eat Pray Love ♥ ~

I do believe I am in search of my word. In the movie Liz suggested “writer” as her own and her friend said “That is what you do; it is not who you are.” My own mind mimics that wanting to say “nurse” or “caregiver” because it is what I love and it feels like a part of me to put my hands and words on injured or failing bodies and souls and try to help somehow but I am rarely able to practice that as my work now. Taking care of my children or of my patients feels as if it gives me purpose and something I am known to be capable and even skilled at doing. There is also the predicament that my skills of lifting the spirits of others were much more efficacious when God was wrapped around my life as a silken cocoon of protection before I allowed a rip of denigration to assault His guardianship. The resulting flock of moths that swarmed the opening and drowned out the light have never retreated, thus weakening my ability to render the cultivation of the aforementioned gift. I often find myself wanting to reach out to soothe and end up in a self-wounding battle of alternating self-loathing and self-pity. These are things which I know lack nobility, humility and honor but which seem to circle in an ever-present, exhausting tidal wave of emotion.

These words, however, would still be a title for “what I do” and not “who I am”. So I am, indeed, a woman in search of my own word. It should be a word which tells me who I am and what I mean or what I am to contribute to this world. It should be a word that defines my being so acutely that I no longer allow anyone to swathe me with their own elucidation. It should be a word that thwarts my own unwanted desire to allow anyone else to be or choose my word for me. Notice I did not say “It should be a word that tells OTHERS…”; others would not need to know my word because they will be able to sense who I am based on the fruits of my labor and perhaps even by my existence in the circle of my life that overlaps with the circle of their own. Possession and knowledge of such a powerful tool as a character-encompassing idiom could breathe new life into my life. I feel that I need a word, one word, all my own to remind me that I do not need any other titles to define me. But does such a word even exist?

The realizations strikes me suddenly, like the comedic hand-slap to the head of a stooge, that trying to find one’s “word” sounds as if attempting to allow only one description for a multitude of characteristics. I am aware that one person can “be” many things to many people. It is not my attributes that I wish to entitle but my purpose. I grasp the idea that there is no single word that is capable of explaining to another that which demonstrates an overall encirclement of my personality and being. I simply seek this word as a foundation on which to build my own understanding of who I am. I can represent different words to different people but knowing which one I represent to myself is paramount in seeking to slay the dragons of past failures and defend my fortress from future blitzkrieg. Each antecedent onslaught has come in such a lightning-fast manner that I felt unprepared to protect my own walls and thus their bricks dropped miserably around me in forgotten rag-doll fashion and have since disintegrated into clouds of choking dust. Knowing my “word”, in my mind, is the epitome of raising a forcefield around one’s encampment. Once I know who I am, I will no longer feel I need the approval and recognition of others in order to merely survive. Instead I will not only survive but LIVE as who I am and not what others expect me to be. And yet again I am forced to inquire as to whether such a word exists that can provide all of these protections.

So today I begin my quest. The territory may often seem uncharted and the forests dark and unwelcoming. The people oft appear villainous but some are indeed utilitarian and will help at the cost of their own sacrifice of time and efforts for the betterment of the kingdom. I shall go on to seek my personal holy grail and do not intend to cease searching until I find the verbal accoutrement that will allow me to map my life’s path in years to come.

Who am I? I am now a woman in search of a word.

Tag: disillusioned

Nothing to Fear but Fear Itself

A Woman In Search Of A Word