I have been an emotional nutcase over the past two weeks. It sunk in yesterday when I was walking across the stone arch bridge at midnight crying and shaking my fists to the sky*. It wasn't just the psychotic display of emotion that alarmed me; it was the intense but fleeting feeling that I was losing control of my ability to handle minor tests.
Yesterday, the following things made me cry:
- A podcast about cannibalism
- The memory of a sad (and incredibly cheesy) scene in a movie
- Panic from having potentially lost my glasses (I found them in my gym bag after roaming around the stone arch bridge searching for them; hence the midnight freak out)
- Being told that a child misses me
The quirk is that all of this also struck me as hilarious. It's not that I'm sad, it's more like I have frequent moments of intense frustration, which partly subsides and leads to me laughing heartily at myself.
It may well have something to do with hormones and/or the food I've been consuming. I've rekindled my romance with espresso drinks, and I wouldn't be surprised to find out that the caffeine has made me more volatile.
*It was actually a beautiful night. Not a soul was around and I was in a snow storm that made the skyline foggy and luminescent.
I've been in Victoria for a day, and the overbearing feeling I'm having is that I MUST return to Canada. I love it here, I adore it. I feel so relaxed, at home, safe. I know I change my mind every week about whether/where/when to move, so this may be a false alarm. Yet I can't deny that I could see myself back here in a year.
In light of recent developments, the majority of my posts are only available if you have a vox account and add me as a friend. It's easy to do, and I'll accept the request if I know you/know of you.
Today I was talking to a friend about what I fear most, and I remembered how intensely I feared death as a child. I remember thinking about the life and eternity of the soul and being so boggled by it that I would get dizzy. I stayed awake in bed many nights* worrying, sometimes crying, feeling helpless that there was nothing I could do to stop it.
Although I'm not into the act of dying, the physical death itself wasn't my issue - it was the result of it. The fact that our soul will continue on for eternity. FOR EVER. Now I know a lot of people read about this in Baha'i Writings and feel comforted, uplifted, relieved - but it terrifies the shit out of me. Still! Even though I have been using the past tense to describe how I felt about it as a child, today I realized that I still feel that way and for the first time in years and years that dizzy, overwhelmed, terrifying feeling of the concept of eternity came over me.
Now please understand that this is not all bad. I prefer feeling overwhelmed by the nature of our spiritual existence over feeling satisfied and in control. To me, it confirms my belief that the realms beyond this material world are way beyond comprehension and grasp of any human mind - especially mine.
So it's still my number one fear, yet that dizzy feeling still fills me with awe and makes me feel like the tiniest most insignificant atom...which is good.
*probably the reason my father called me "a little morbid"
Finally got sick of the last two breakup posts. Now on to happier topics! Death.
Despite the title of this post, it is not morbid. I have thought about death several times today. It came up first thing this morning when I opened The Hidden Words of Baha'u'llah, a book I read from every day. I opened up the book randomly to a page I land on frequently, with the following passage:
O SON OF THE SUPREME! I have made death a messenger of joy to thee. Wherefore dost thou grieve? I made the light to shed on thee its splendor. Why dost thou veil thyself therefrom? - Baha'u'llah
I have always thought of the death referred to here as a physical death - loss of a loved one or our own inevitable passing on. I'm not sure why, but today something clicked and I read it as death of ego and self. The death that we have to experience all the time in order to learn and reveal our nobility. Admittedly, I am prone to grieving the loss of comfort and control that I feel when I am being prepared for growth (see posts below). Yet every time a part of my ego/attachment/insecurity/fear truly dies, it leads to new growth and new life. I thought of a plant and how we lose the old leaves for healthy new ones to grow in.
This came at a period in my life where it seems as though everything is changing: friendships, confidence in institutions/economy, job security, parents, service. Today that passage comforted me a lot; helped me recognize how odd it is that I grieve something that is actually a bounty.
Doesn't mean I'm not going to be bummed out by tests - I definitely will. But! hopefully I'll see the reality of the situation a little more clearly.
Right now.
Those of you who read this blog have probably heard this already through conversations we've had, so please forgive my tendency to tell the same stories over and over again.
My mother married my stepdad when I was 12, and he has shown me the utmost love and respect since then. He has two sons of his own, but he wasn't able to see them grow up and although they have gotten much closer, they don't have the typical father-son relationship because of the years apart. I used to watch as their birthdays would roll around and he would cry because he missed them so much and couldn't be with them. He's over the moon that he has contact with them again, but they don't call him dad - they call him by his first name.
I was talking to my friend recently, who lost his mother when he was quite young. When he was 18 his father remarried, and I asked him about his relationship with his stepmom. I was shocked to hear that he calls her mom. To me, the idea of calling a stepparent a parent was absolutely out of the question. Having had two stepmothers and a stepfather, I had trouble wrapping my mind around the idea that you can give your stepparent the same love and respect you give mom and dad. I subconsciously always believed that I had the right to show my stepparents that they are not welcome, which may be natural for a child but not appropriate for an adult (which I'm trying to learn how to be). When I asked him how he could have started calling someone mom even though he didn't grow up with her, he said "out of respect for her - she loves us a lot". This touched my heart and taught me something new about love. Having experienced the awkward and sometimes painful stepparent transition a few times, I felt my admiration for this friend increase tenfold (at least!).
Even though I loved the idea that he calls his stepmom 'mom' out of love and respect, I still exempted myself because both my biological parents are still alive. Less than a week later, however, I was talking to another friend who grew up with both his father and stepdad in his life, and who has a strong connection with his stepdad, who he actually calls his father. Ok, so I'm not exempted after all.
After toying with the idea for a couple days and thinking about how much love I have for my stepdad - not only for the love he shows me, but for the affection he has for my mother - I decided it's not too late to start calling him dad. This is actually long overdue. How many times has he introduced me as his daughter and I corrected him rudely. He didn't do that by accident - he has told me and shown me time and time again that he thinks of me as his daughter.
So although this will be difficult to get used to, I have started calling him dad. Every time I do it I giggle because I know he's incredibly tickled by it and because it still feels so unnatural. But once I started doing it, I realized that this is the first time he's been called dad in around 15 years.
As I was going through some boxes at my mom's house yesterday, I found a couple items from my childhood. These are few and precious since most of them had to be tossed out when I was in junior high.
One incredible find was a book my mom bought when I was a toddler called "School Years". It was a scrapbook that kept track of my family tree, my school photos, and what my personality was like as I went through each grade. For every year from kindergarten to senior year my mom enclosed a school photo and had me fill in the questions. Most of it is in my handwriting except for the years I didn't get to visit my mom, which just included a lonely paragraph in her handwriting, explaining where I was that year.
From kindergarten...
Influential people: Dad, mom, Vivianne, Snoopy
What I want to be when I grow up: A penguin
Talents: Running, dancing, getting ready in the morning and evening, brushing hair and putting hairband in hair
Habits: sucking finger, looking in the mirror
From Grade 2...
What I want to be when I grow up: Teacher, housemom, artist, bird.
Talents: Love, dancing, drawing, doing my homework
Favorite song: Everything's going to be alright by Bob Marley
This evening I was reading a story about Iranian Baha'is who were arrested last week and taken to the infamous Evin prison. I have been thinking about these and other imprisoned Baha'is in that country and felt strong love and, honestly, fear for them. I kept trying to remind myself that they are being drawn closer to their Beloved through their suffering, but as a very imperfect human being I kept feeling sadness for their difficulties.
I decided to sign onto a chat program that my cousin very occasionally uses, and he happened to be online. He is also a Baha'i living in that country, and we talked (very cautiously and only at his prompting) about what life is like for him and the family right now. What always strikes me about them is how humble they are about the sacrifices they have been making for years. They have been denied education, livelihood, and respect and yet they feel they are doing nothing. I feel so unworthy when I think of how easy life is over here. I don't know why, but I've always had a special place in my heart for him, and I so wish I could meet him someday. The truth is, I probably never will, but I hope that our souls will recognize each other in the next world.
Some that I didn't know are: Americium, Europium, Einsteinium, Californium, Indium, Neptunium, and Rutherfordium.
I think my favorites are Antimony, Tin, and Mercury.
I've been using this game on sporcle.com, a website with a bunch of educational games that are super simple and actually pretty fun.
The website also has games in which you must name US states, countries of each continent, seven deadly sins, 10 commandments, and so much more. No, I'm not getting paid to advertise for them, I just really like trivia.
