Last night, I was checking out the page of a new Facebook friend. We all do it, right? The stuff we put on our pages is there for the consumption of the folks on our friends list, right? haha. Anyhow, I was perusing the notes section, and I read this note. It seemed this one instance in this person's life had defined, mostly, who and what he is today. Not that this matters... Seems the situation hasn't created anything bad, but it just got me thinking... Do I have one defining event in my life that has molded and shaped who/what I am today? Honestly, I'm not sure.
It seems to me that I'm made up of bits and pieces... bits and pieces from random, myriad situations. I give because I was denied, and I remember how it feels. I am kind because I know how unkindness feels. I am generous because I've experienced selfishness. I defend myself because I remember the feeling of helplessness all too well. This list could go on and on, but none of that is what's important here.
I guess what struck me is, once again, the vast differences between human beings, and this is something that fascinates me to no end. Why do people think as they do? Why does one prefer red and the other, blue? Why is one good, but the other is bad? Of course, I could be thinking way too much about one thing someone posted on Facebook, but, to me, what's important is that it made me think about who I am and why I am that person. It's a good start, for me, because, here lately, I've been so unsure of so many things. That's a departure for me. One I've decided I can no longer live with.
Let's start with the basics.
I'm 41 years old. I'm single/divorced. I word it this way because my marriage was so very long ago that I feel like "divorced" no longer defines my current state of affairs. I married a month out of high school because A.) I was pregnant and B.) I wanted to leave home. My marriage wasn't ever great. There never really was the potential for "happily ever after". It was, in fact, a quick fix for what ailed me, and what ailed me was a loathing and contempt for living in my mother's home in Akron,OH. Soon, however, what ailed me more was living with a physically abusive man.
Go ahead, go on about how awful that must have been. Guess what? It wasn't the worst thing that's ever happened to me. It was pretty easy to get out of it, actually. Why? Because physical abuse is easy. You can see it for what it is. It's not like emotional or mental abuse, you know, the kind that causes you to question, "is this really happening, or am I imagining things?" or "really? Maybe I am a complete and total fuck up." Physical abuse? There's no denying what it is... When someone slams you in the face with their fist, it's plain as day, sweetheart. Get the fuck out. So I did. The only thing it cost me was my pride in having to return to a place I hated. Oh well... Like I said, worse things have happened to me. In fact, I don't even count my marriage as my most significant relationship.
I'm not, in fact, entirely sure any of them have been the most significant. They're all bits and pieces of the patchwork quilt that is me and who I am. It's colorful, and the patches are all intricately sewn together. The colors don't particularly match, but it's mismatching in a way that creates a stunning conglomeration of beauty and reality. Welcome to my world.
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