viewI Choose to be Happy
I think in every aspect of life, at some point requires some sort of sacrifice. But, hear me out, I don't think it has to be in a bad way. At different points I decided I didn't want to do something... which led me to sacrifice.
My question is, does it ever end?
Here’s an example, I’ve never liked crowds, never liked systems. I couldn't stand getting up at 7:00AM to sit in a classroom after spending $250 on a textbook I only opened twice in a whole semester, but I did it.
I sacrificed my free time and money to graduate, then I went straight to work. I wanted to advance my education, but it came at the expense of my time, my 20’s, and in hindsight, my mental health. Is that a trade I would consider worth it? So, does everything come at a price? Are we just pawns in this game of life?
Sacrifice comes with a negative connotation, but on the contrary, can’t it be a peaceful transaction? Can I decide which losses I am willing to take for the greater outcome?
We often contribute sacrifice to working too much, studying too much, starting too many new projects, or not giving time to yourself, and trust me, I’ve been there for many years. I just never realized how much energy it takes to be miserable. The quicker I realized that I can't change the action but could only change my reaction, the quicker nothing bothered me.
I unapologetically live for my own happiness.
Not to a fault in my emotional quotient, but with mindfulness, I quickly sacrificed the ability to be empathetic.
To get to happiness, I had to face all my insecurities, I had to let go of people I love, I had to emotionally detach & I had to go through my trauma. So, I genuinely apologize for my inability to provide reassurance to anyone who yearns for it from me... I need to focus on my own happiness.
I must make the ultimate sacrifice & choose to be happy.
viewAlcoholism: Hereditary or a Generational Curse?
I heard a story one time about twin boys who endured the effects of living with an alcoholic. One son followed his father's path and alcohol took over his life, his brother however, never touched a drop.
I have a line of heavy alcohol drinkers in my family, so I see the repercussions of pain that travels through the generations. As a matter of fact, I myself endured the torment that came along with it as well, but that's a story for another day.. It was not necessarily the alcohol that was the deleterious part, because most of the trauma happened in sobriety. Growing up I always wondered why people even drink in the first place, considering alcohol is known to be a depressant, why do we feel the need/want to consume poison?
I laugh along with my friends when alcoholic jokes are made, and I admit I'm first in line to go out for drinks, but in all actuality what makes the jokes funny? With the understanding that those who have a generational history of addiction are more likely pick up an addiction of their own what are we really laughing at?
I'm writing this now as a 23 year old who has spent way too many nights blacked out and far too many mornings regretting it. This sparks a few of my questions... Is alchoholism a generational curse? or am I doomed before I even have a chance to fight it?
I have my dad's, eyes, hairline, and hair colour, my uncle's laugh, welcoming personality, and height, and my grandfather's smile & interests. We can see that many different aspects about me have been passed down from family members, so what about addiction?
Personally, I think its a mental curse.. something that can be lifted. I see pain that accompanies addiction and can choose to break that cycle here so that my kids and their kids don't have to endure the things I went through. Except, is it enough to want a change? When it comes to breaking a curse, you have to go through raw and vivid pain..
Am I strong enough?
viewLove Language, Yours & Mine.
For a long time, I believed love was love.
I believed that love equaled forgiveness, love equaled endorsement, love equaled toleration.
Coming into the later years of my life, I began to unravel this truth.
I realized that what I couldn’t, or in hindsight, didn’t want to is choose the theory that I was loving different rather than loving “wrong”. Loving differently implied that it may have been my fault in not taking the time to understand someone, it was easier to just say “it wasn’t meant to be.” “we just... don’t click.”
I took the time to understand my love language. I give love thoroughly through all languages of love... is that overdoing it?
The hard truth is that, i’m a people pleaser.
I try to give what I think my loved ones want rather than need. Truthfully, my ego is big. Its my way or no way... until I met a man who challenged every move I made. I became intrigued in why hurt people, hurt people and how can some not care to give love with such assurance that it will come back to them.
So the real question is, what is my true love language?
I live through acts of service. I openly receive love through seeing my loved ones do “nice”things for me.
Is this showing me a level of insecurity? Does this go back to my ingenuous need for validation and acceptance?
Thankfully, I have loved ones whom openly share their love for me.. even when i’m not the easiest to deal with.
How do you unlearn your way of loving to understand those around you? I don’t know.
Will you avoid providing a loved one with what their desires are, just because it’s different from yours?
I guess thats a journey for another day.