“I
get knocked, down but I get up again
You're never gonna keep me down…”
Chumbawumba – Tubthumping
“Pack
it up, pack it in
Let
me begin
I
came to win…”
House
of Pain – Jump Around
"Don't worry, baby
Everything will turn out alright."
Beach Boys - Don't Worry, Baby
“Hay, nino!”
That’s an expression I learned from my
Mexican students when I made a mistake or did or said something foolish or
silly. (Nino is pronounced "NIN yo.") There’s no direct
translation, but it means in a loving and gentle way, “Silly boy!” or “Good grief,
child!” It’s usually said with a
smile and with an affectionate laugh.
I’m hoping today will end with an “Hay, nino!” More important, I’m hoping that I won’t repeat the mistakes
of the past.
I do tend to
repeat mistakes. I tend to do
things that are at best silly, harmless or funny and, at worst, hurtful to
others. As I said in a previous
blog, I don’t do these things intentionally, but I do them nonetheless. Fortunately, I don’t do them all the
time. However, I have patterns of
certain behaviors and, worse, patterns of thought that are very destructive.
The thought
pattern to which I refer here is giving into fear. This is how it goes:
1. I
have a problem with someone I love.
2. I
get scared.
3. My
mind tells me that I have permanently destroyed the relationship and that my
friend will never talk to me again.
4. I
begin crying.
5. My
mind can’t focus on anything else.
6. I
call someone for prayer or I tap on it or I write.
7. Sometimes
I feel 100% and other times I feel 90% better, but there’s often still a
residue of fear.
8. The
person with whom I had a problem lets me know that the problem wasn’t as big as
I thought it was.
9. I
feel relieved and foolish.
I feel foolish
because I needlessly dragged myself through an emotional maelstrom and because
this has happened repeatedly throughout my life. ‘
Needlessly.
Repeatedly.
I was sure that
even the slightest conflict in a relationship meant that the relationship was
officially over. Incidentally,
this refers to any problem I’ve had with anyone. Last week, I thought one of my daughters would never speak
to me again. I thought for months
that a friendship of 20 years was over.
I’ve been sure so many times that someone was mad at me and it turned
out that person wasn’t even thinking about me.
Yesterday it
happened again.
And I got tired of
it.
I got tired of my
pattern.
Maturity and
wisdom do not come automatically with age or even with experience. Maturity and wisdom can only be earned by a change in behavior.
That’s it. That’s how it
works. Always. I rarely use words like “always” but
this time it applies. If I want to
be mature and wise, if I want to be a light to others, if I want to be a
positive force in the world, if I want to grow up, I have to do things
differently. I cannot repeat the
same patterns.
So today I have
made some decisions. I am not
going to focus on my fears. Fear is never going to keep my down. I’m
not going to fight them, nor am I going to surrender to them. Instead, I’m walking away. I have things to do today. I’m going to do them. I have things to do in my life. I’m going to do them.
There’s a house by
the beach that is waiting for me.
I have writing to do and books to read and birthdays to celebrate and
things to clean and organize. I
have books I need to publish. I
have money I need to make and save.
Action is the
antidote to despair. It is the
antidote to many things.
My constant
emotional neediness exhausts me.
I’m just tired of it. I’m
tired of how it sucks out all my energy.
If the very worst happened and a friendship or a relationship ended, I
would not die. I would not spend
the rest of my life crying and being unhappy. I would move on.
I have had
relationships end. And I’ve
survived. A couple of months ago a
good friend died unexpectedly. She
was younger than me so this was quite a shock. Yesterday while going through old text messages, I found one
from her. I felt a surge of sadness
and loss. I stayed with it for a
while and grieved her passing.
Then I moved on to other things.
My best friend
died when he was 18. More than ten
years later when I would visit the parents, his room was left untouched. I don’t know what it’s like to lose a
child, but my judgment was that the parents were not able to move on to other
things.
I need to move on
to other things. Nobody has
died. I’m 99% certain that
everything will be fine. Actually, I’m 100% that everything will be fine. But even if it isn’t, it will be.
I am ready to Get
Started and to Keep Going... and
I’m ready to hear, “Hay, nino!”
More importantly, I’m ready to say it to myself.
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