I don’t know how to cook well.
I don’t know how to exercise well.
I don’t know how to manage life well.
But even if I’m doing these things well, I am STILL doing them.
Every day, I learn more and more about how to do these things. Every single day, I become closer to becoming an optimally functioning adult.
I’m manifesting people in my life who are helping me become the best version of me.
And it is a beautiful experience.
The best thing about people is that they don’t mind teaching you what they know, even if its something you feel you should know by now.
I never knew I had so much time to learn how to take care of myself and others. I never knew people could be this wonderful. I never knew life could be this wonderful.
When I was a young girl, I came to the conclusion that my parents were not capable of being parents. That conclusion holds true to this day. But I also came the conclusion that my life wasn’t worth living because of it, and that conclusion was wrong.
I watched my parents fight every single day. I watched as my dad put his hands around my moms throat. I watched my mom provoke his actions with her emotional abuse. I stood there as my mom abused my entire family, bringing out the worse in us all.
My survival depended on my ability to read emotional situations. I needed to have the ability to read their actions, so I knew what came next, and how to protect myself.
I developed empathy in order to survive.
No one told me this growing up. I loved people intensely, and my love was labelled as a disorder. My empathy, my loving heart, was labelled as sick.
Of course, I looked sick- I couldn’t manage my life. For example, my parents never taught me to cook, so I never labeled cooking as important.
I just lived off whatever scraps I could. I had one meal a day, if anything at all. All I ate was Bologna, fries, meatballs, and microwaved meals. I never knew anything else.
I learned that I had to take care of myself. I raised myself, the best I could.
I used society as a guideline toward what I needed to do: do well in school and get a degree.
It never happened, because I didn’t even know how to eat. I didn’t know how to smile. I didn’t know how to talk to people. I didn’t know how manage my life. I didn’t know how to commit to goals, because I couldn’t see myself having a future.
I didn’t know how to be happy.
All I knew was darkness, complete darkness.
I didn’t know that sunlight was there all along, in the sky. When I saw therapists, they labelled my brain as disordered. They said it was because of my past experiences that I was this way. They told me I had to learn skills in order to cope with my brain.
They put me on medication when I was 16 and expected that to fix me.
No one told me that happiness was in the sky. No one said “Hey, look at the sky. See those beautiful clouds? They are happiness.”
I was programmed to believe that happiness was a degree, having kids, having a car, having a good paying career, having a house, having lots of stuff.
But happiness was right there, all along.
I almost killed myself.
I almost lost out on the taste of coffee this morning and that lovely lady that talked to me about bananas on the street this afternoon and my partner who just told me I’m thin and crispy and my new friend who showed me how to bake bread yesterday and my best friends smile as I showed up at his door with a birthday cake the day before…
I almost lost all of this, because society labelled me as sick, and I believed them. I almost lost all of this, because I failed to live up to the expectations of society.
I was brainwashed into believing my life wasn’t worth living, not just by myself, but by everyone around me.
I was brainwashed into believing that I was somehow different than everyone else, because I grew up in a traumatic situation, when I’m really no different from anyone.
It took learning meditation for me to see the truth.
Joy lies in the little things in life: the taste of delicious food, the sky, a breeze on a warm day, laughing with friends.
No one taught me this.
My parents taught me that life was pure darkness and suffering . Capitalist society taught me that I was running in a race. A race of who could have the best education, the best job, the most accomplished life. My friends and previous lover taught me that people are distrustful, that I wasn’t worth loving, that I was hopeless and worthless. The medical system taught me that my brain was sick and disordered, with no help of recovery.
No wonder I knew nothing but suicidal thoughts. No wonder darkness crept in and made a home in me. No wonder I so desperately wanted to leave this world.
Meditation taught me that joy and gratitude is found in my breath. My life is a miracle, and so is this beautiful Earth around me. I’m sure I could be sitting on a bench, homeless, right now, and I would still find a way to be joyful.
Life is everywhere. We are meant to take it slow, so we can truly enjoy every moment. We are all merely little humans, trying to find happiness. The world is full of generous, happy, loving, trustworthy people. Love is existing everywhere. My brain is a beautiful structure, made up of 100 billion neurons. My brain cells are vibrant and full of life, and they have lots to share, and lots of things they would like to learn and do.
The main one being, how can I best take care of myself, so that I can help others take care of themselves, too?
There’s so much here, and I’m grateful.
So grateful to be alive.