I Would be Such a Kickass Rich Person

As someone with very predominant ADHD, I have gone through many different levels of support, embarrassment, motivation, and discouragement. Much self assessment on the “why” of who I am has lead me to learn, it doesn’t fricking matter. While I sit and rationalize what it could all mean, and where this (gift?) could take me, the rest of the world carries on without me.

That being said, my favorite explanation for ADHD is that humans are evolving and it’s actually a superpower. At first, I felt this was a total bullshit answer, because superpowers are helpful, and I can’t imagine a world where everyone is distracted, forgetful, and never finishes what they start. Sounds more like a disability to me.

Then I was sitting one night, twisting wire into a car. (I like to make wire art) and I was thinking about this book I started writing. I should finish that….and that screenplay….I worked so hard on the character development and story line….but never finished it. And I should make some videos on YouTube again. That was fun. And I wonder if I made up a syllabus if I could find a school to let me have an improv clinic. Oh! I bet I could teach wire art! I wonder if I need to be certified to do that. I should take a drawing class. I want to draw that conflicted lady I started and didn’t finish. I wonder if I could find someone to be in a band with me. I have my bass, and I would love to perform again….

The one thing I noticed was, while I have a million ideas and visions, I am disorganized and lack time and money. I need a personal assistant. Then I started thinking about what life would be like if I had someone to snap me back to reality. To stay with me and keep me moving from task to task until completed. Do you know how fricking unstoppable I would be?? Seriously. I am 100% confident I could not only finish these things, I could excel and dominant them.

I AM a superhero! I just don’t have a sidekick. Or an Alfred is more like it. So I just went all Elsa on this shit and let it go! Sounds corny, but I totally get that movie. And I cried a bit during that song. Feeling trapped by something, and never having the freedom to let all of it out DOES make you feel as if it’s a curse. I need to be where I can let myself shine. Because I guarantee I can amaze the world.

Unfortunately, I’m poor and a mom. Hahaha. So I am on hold until further notice. Unless someone out there wants to make me nutty rich or volunteer to be my personal assistant. Then, I’ll get right on that. Until then, I’m going to let these ideas and passions rumble around in my brain, and hopefully a few can escape now and then 😉

How to Treat a Wound. Mother Style.

What happens when you accidentally stab yourself with a screwdriver in the finger? For most ppl, it would be, put pressure on it, gently clean, treat an antibiotic ointment and a band aid.

But when you’re a mom, it’s not nearly as simple. First, you track blood in from one room to another, looking for the roll of paper towel. You know it’s somewhere, but can’t remember which room had the most recent spill. Then you find it with the barbies. One is sitting on top, while another is sleeping cozy under a “double quilted” bedspread. You very rudely wake Barbie up from her slumber to stop the bleeding. Now the bleeding is contained and you can carry on to the next task. The bandaid.

At this point the kids notice and keep asking what happened. Now, the pain is pretty extreme. So out of fear of only profanity escaping your mouth, you mumble out a very eloquent “mmffnnppff” Your significant other now arrives, “Are you OK??” He asks. And you blurt out, “NO I’M NOT!” The guilt of yelling at your love hits you briefly, but then becomes overcome by the pain. So he backs off and leaves you to your chaos. Mental note, apologize for that later.

Keeping calm, you hold your now wrapped finger above your head. And start the search for bandaid. In a house with three children, this task is more impossible than finding the holy grail or the fountain of youth. On your quest, you notice that hairbrush you was looking for, about 14 hair ties, your daughters sandle that was lost, the cat’s toy mouse, and every other lost thing you’ve been looking for. You mental note where those things are, and carry on with your search, knowing that mental note will most likely be erased in the near future.

As a last resort, you just pull everything from the back of the cupboard forward. Forgetting you sliced your finger, you go to grab some random objects, and start the bleeding process over again. You contemplate releasing your hulk self, and ripping out the entire cupboard, but contain yourself. Then. Victory. There it is. A 1/2 opened red crayon bandaid, stuck to the bottom of the shelf. You snatch it up, and do a one handed open. As you try to fasten it it the tip of your finger, it catches on itself, leaving one side unsticky and bunched. Refusing defeat, you just pull the other side even tighter over the crinkled side. You did it! Sweet satisfaction in your victorious adventure is interrupted the moment you realize you forgot the antibiotic ointment. You look at the frazzled looking red crayon, sloppily wrapped around your finger and wonder if you can stick the tip of the ointment in without disturbing your attempt at attaching this lone bandaid. Throwing caution to the wind, you say eff it!  And breathe.

This all happens in about 1 1/2 mins.

*you can also substitute a duct taped/scotch taped paper towel bandaid if your attempt for finding a bandaid is in vain.

Zombies, Desert Island, or Meteorite. They’re all the Same.

The other day, my 9 year old asked me why adults like end of the world movies. I don’t remember what brought this up, but she pointed out how a lot of shows and movies grown ups watch are about surviving the end of the world. So I started thinking of shows, movies, books, etc., that I enjoy watching. The Walking Dead, A Friend for the End of the World, The Book of Eli….the list goes on.

So I told her, “Well, when you lose everything, and the world as you know it disappears, you are brought back to your human nature. When there is no standard of style, pressure of socially acceptable conversation, or motivation to move ‘up’ to one job or another, our real selves come out. Are we a leader? A follower? Would you harm others? Or protect? Watching these shows open our imaginations to what we would do if it happened to us.”

Then, my fiancĂ© and I had a conversation while listening to Ween. We were talking about Super Ego, Ego, and Id. The internal balance we all maintain. Through our entire lives we question this internal struggle. It’s the whole nature versus nurture debate. Ryan compared it to the cartoons with the devil on one shoulder, and the angel on the other.

With this vision of walking around with good and evil riding on my shoulders, I realized how our civilization views Id and the Super Ego. We have painted our natural instinct into a little devil, as if to suggest we must fight it or else we become evil. We learn and teach self control over our impulses to be able to function with others. In our society, we do go against a lot of our base instincts. Our ego is what separates us from animals. Having reason keeps us balanced. Yet, humans are self preserving. When the direct threat of harm or death is gone, we strive for something more. We protect the weak. We set up rules for life. Laws, consequences, and etiquette form on small and large levels. With our basic needs met, we spend our time micro-managing and obsessing about insignificant details. We start leaning toward the Super Ego, vilifying the Id portion of our psyche.

Now, my A.D.D. took over at this point, and I started to think about offensive things. Not actual things that are offensive, but the concept of being offended. How silly is it to take offense to anything? The Id part of us wouldn’t give it a thought. I imagine a caveman. Leaving to hunt, and his wife comes out crying because the cave woman next door “ughed” at her meanly. Hahaha.

Which brings me to pride (hope your enjoying this jolt filled ride through Beth’s mind). I do believe pride is instinctual. Even animals are competitive and assert themselves as the dominant male, or the most sought after female. So when someone gets their pride broken, they feel anger, embarrassment, frustration, and jealousy. If someone belittles something you have pride in, you feel a sense of violation. Having someone violate or insult your pride is a lot more of a base, instinctual feeling. Being offended, to me, is surface deep. A penguin will not get offended another waddling by collecting stones a different way, but will fight and defend is own and see his stones as a personal reflection on who he is as a penguin (if he could reason that thought out. Haha)

There are so many things I believe we have developed to fulfil our overly suppressed Id side. Being offended was created by us. Our nature needs to feel pride and motivation. We have set ourselves up in such a way, we are stagnant and live monotonous lives. So we create insignificant problems. We find things that offend us, that really have no matter in the grand scheme of who we are. Our efforts are focused on things that are shallow or materialistic. We find socially acceptable ways to be impulsive with our wants or feelings. We believe that catering to our Super Ego is somehow superior to our base level Id. The problem is, when you swing too far to either side of the spectrum, the other part will come out in in other ways. Because like it or not, they are both part of us.

To come full circle, that’s why we enjoy reading Lord of the Flies, or watch Lost. We want to imagine a life without bullshit. Where nothing offends, but we fight for our pride and survival. A world where the angel and devil on our shoulders are redefining right a wrong based on self preservation, not socially acceptable expectations. We get to see ourselves in the rawest form that way. Would be thrive in a survivalist world? Or cling to the idea order and being civilized? How would superiority be shown? In our current world, the successful are, most the time, obvious to the rest of us. Properly dressed, perfect manners, and have a presence that demands respect. So what would be the cue for us to know our alphas? We know deep down we came from uncivilized to overly civilized. To imagine our lives redefined and being able to escape this world of rules and expectations to one of survival, let’s us experience the Id portion of ourselves. It’s fun 🙂

I Should Get an A for Effort

Do you remember in school that combination of nervousness and excitement of conferences? Maybe not the later years, but in elementary school, it’s exciting to see your mom and dad proud of you, yet nerve racking that maybe you weren’t nearly as great as you thought. Well, for my non parent friends, I would like you to know that it’s the same feeling when your kids have conferences. I am not sure of how they are now versus 20 years ago, but my experiences is full of anxiety. Don’t get me wrong, I know that my kids are amazing, so I most likely will get to hear about how wonderful they are, but I know any negatives will most definitely be my fault. 

My oldest daughter, Audrey, is a very smart, funny, shy, contemplative child. Full of curiosity and a great comprehension of anything taught, I know that she is doing well academically. So I sit and listen to the teacher rave about her. How well she does on tests, how advanced she is in subjects, and how great it is to have her in her class. Then the pause….BUT….  I knew it was coming. One issue I needed to resolve was tardiness. Yuck. I knew this would be brought up. Why is she always late? You are the mother, and it IS your responsibility to get your children to the school on time. She does so much better when she’s here early. etc. I, of course, heard all these things and became very emotional about the subject because all I heard while she said these things was, “You’re failing motherhood! You’re not doing your job! Your child is lacking because you’re so flipping incompetent!” This teacher did not say these things, but definitely perceived her criticism as a personal attack on my ability as a mother. 

I tried to explain myself, but within a couple min of talking, I realized I sounded like the biggest excuse maker in the world. A “the dog ate my homework” excuse would have been better received than my reasons. After we addressed other issues, I left and proceeded to sit in my car having myself a good ugly cry. After thoroughly wiping the fluids from every hole in my face with some left over McDonald’s napkins, I went on my way.

Why the heck did this affect me so strongly? I’m sure there are parents in there that have to hear about what a little shit Tommy is, or how far behind academically Sally is. My child is doing awesome. I should be leaving with a sense of pride and happiness. Not snot and Alice Cooper eye makeup. 

The reason is because this is a subject I kind of feel helpless on. When people ask why we  late,are I always want to reply the same way. Which reason would you like? The time that Genevieve decided she had to poop before we left? Or maybe the time I leaned over and spilled my coffee all over the kitchen floor. Or we could go with the time that the girls decided to use one of there shoes to tie up a fort they made, so I had to spend 10 min untying knots. Or our most common occurrence, bus #12. Yes. There is actually one bus that has made us late numerous occasions. If, in the last 3 min of our drive to school we get behind this particular bus, it takes us an additional 5-10 min. And these are just normal days. I won’t even begin to give examples of what the winter months in Michigan hold for my family. Which reason is your favorite? 

Today, like a super mom, I managed to have everyone ready to go out the door EARLY. Then it happened. That moment the universe realizes it was not paying nearly enough attention, and forgot to throw some crap your way. My 4 year old was upset because she wanted to wear a very wrinkly blue and white dress. With black pants under. And she no longer liked her sparkly shoes. They were “too sparkly”. In the mean time, my 7 and 9 year old were “getting in the car”, which really means, we’re going to run around outside and hopefully find some puddles to jump in. And while we’re at it, maybe we can find a way to get a bit of dirt on various places of our body. So, I told my very upset 4 year old that the blue dress is beautiful, and pants are a great idea, and I understand that sparkly shoes were so “last week” but she’s stuck with them. And no you can’t have candy with your breakfast. Finally, which feels like an eternity, I load all the kids in the car. Ok. We wont be early, but we can still make it on time. Until about 10 min into our 35 min drive. “Oh no! I forgot my swim stuff!” My brain quickly reasons out the proper response. I really want to say, “Well, that’s unfortunate for you. I guess when you said you were ready and had everything for school, you didn’t really check. Guess you won’t be swimming today.” Then I realize that it would most definitely result in a talk with me about how I’m the parent, and thus, responsible to make sure my child has what she needs for school. I weigh out which scolding I would prefer, that, or the “late again?” one. I turn around and head back to the house to retrieve the forgotten bag. Following 2 buses, and having to wait for traffic to be guided around an accident were just the frosting on “C’mon!” cake we had this morning. My kids were 20 min late. 

So dear friends, when I say I’m sorry for being late, I am sincere. When I don’t feel the need to explain, making myself seem indifferent, I am not. Just know, that the reason for my “whatever” approach to our tardiness isn’t because I don’t care about punctuality, it’s because the reasons are usually so absurd, and happen so often, I just have to let it go. 

Our Purpose is to be an Irritation

Sometimes I feel as if humans are just an infection in this universe. I was going to say cancer, but I really don’t feel we have that big of an impact. Just imagine, this vast, huge, seemingly endless, universe….we are what? A fingernail? Maybe humans are just an ingrown nail. Sore, bothersome, inflamed, but not terminal. Eventually we will be removed and the finger will heal. And we have the audacity to believe we are somehow special or purposeful. Do we realize how small our time existing is? A lifetime to us is merely a minor irritation to the universe. Cancer doesn’t know its bad. Infections don’t contemplate the harm they’re doing. Viruses don’t decide to choose to harm or help. THAT is the only difference. Yet, individually, our choices don’t matter. As a whole, humanity is self serving, and self preserving. And in the end we die. Believing our cause and purpose will have great impact. When, in fact, we randomly came to be, and consumed, used, and destroyed all around us.

Just a thought.

I’ve Been Missing the Trees, Looking at the Forest

I have this overwhelming disdain for shallow people. I find myself wanting break them to the point of reassessing their lives and maybe find a little depth. I often use sarcasm and overly condescending responses while having conversation. Not always, but a lot of the times. I guess I feel like I want to embarrass them. I want them to think before they spew their unimportant, usually trivial, thoughts to the rest of the world.

That being said, I can play the part of “surface level” thoughts and conversations. It’s actually a necessary talent to have in the adult world. When these occurrences happen, I am usually left with an odd combination of feelings. Part of me feels accomplished and successful, almost like nailing a part in a play. It is an act, so of course I feel like if I can get through the entire conversation without letting a snide remark out, I am the MASTER OF BULLSHITTING! The other part of me feels dirty and tainted. (I can’t believe I just talked about which kind of bushes would look the best in the front yard for 10 min…..OMG was that fake laugh at her turmoil and final resolution over an eggshell or white for the entryway full of obvious sarcasm??). I feel as if I’m going against who I am as a person, like I cheated myself. But like I said, it’s an act. 

So why am I like this? Where am I taking you on this ride through the mind of Bethy you ask?? Well, we all know I love flashbacks, so join me to my teenage years!

It was in the early 2000’s. I’m not sure of the exact age, but that’s irrelevant anyways. I was sitting at lunch with some of the popular girls. Now, I was by no means popular, but was far from being a social reject. My perception of myself in high school was, I was a piece of furniture. Not really liked or disliked. Just kind of there. (of course in my mind, I felt forced into this role. As an extrovert, it drove me crazy not being noticed in one way or another.) So it was not an odd thing to be sitting by these girls. Then it happened. Almost like an out-of-body experience. I heard myself say, “Oh, I just looooove Clinique’s mint eye shadow. I think I’ll pick some up when I go to buy a bottle of Happy.”  *cringe* What am I saying? I actually didn’t like Clinique. To me it was overpriced, and not even that outstanding of quality. Besides, I knew I had no way of ever actually buying it. I worked part time at a restaurant, and would much rather save my money for something I liked, not something I need someone to see me use to feel like it was worth it. I very gracefully excused myself, and never looked back.

At that moment I realized, I could have made the transition to “being someone” in the high school realm. I chose not to. At the time I was really into politics. It fascinated me to learn the interactions and workings of each party. And, having helped with habitat for humanity and the soup kitchen, I was really wanting to involve myself in more “give back” type programs. I also was exploring different music types. Finding out there was more that Brittany Spears and The Backstreet boys out there. It was ok to not like rap. Punk music had WAY more than the pop-punk radio songs had to offer. I would NOT be able to share this stuff with these girls. If I wanted to be shallow, I had to STAY shallow. Yeah…..I couldn’t do it. So I made a decision to live my life for the big picture, and not get worked up about the small stuff.

So here I am. An adult who has learned to loathe the casual, mindless conversation. And it hits me. I have completely set myself up for apathy. I know there is injustice. I know there are starving children. I have SEEN poverty. I know our government is corrupt and flawed. I see the possibilities in this world for complete and udder devastation with all these empty minded sheep. So the little stuff loses its point. My laundry is clean, but what’s the point of putting it away? There are more important things out there. I should organize my paperwork, but who cares? Everything is there, why waste my time?? There’s a whole world out there, and people trying to eat! People dying!

I believe we NEED to feel a certain amount of self thought and shallowness. Because our personal lives are OUR worlds. The big picture isn’t getting any better by my lack of care for the little things. In fact, I’m probably hurting the cause. How can I teach my daughter’s how to take care of others if I don’t emphasize the importance of self care? Our own little worlds DO matter, and while I still dislike the fake interactions that happen on a daily basis, it’s ok to lift the burden of the “big picture” every once in awhile. Our first responsibility is to ourselves and our family. So, I will work on looking at some of the trees, since I already know there is a forest there. And maybe learn how to navigate myself through it. 

Life, a Wave Pool, and Finding a Calm

One time, in my early teenage years, I went to a water park with my Aunt and her family. We were having fun in the wave pool, until I found myself drifting to the deep end. My mediocre swimming abilities became quite apparent very quickly. I could no longer reach the bottom, and the waves were so large, I couldn’t seem to keep my head above long enough to swim to the edge.

I remember thinking, “I’m going to drown. No one is helping me. Please someone. Turn off the waves. Someone please grab me.” Wave after wave, I could feel my body exhausting, and the fear increasing. At this point I was trying to time it so I could try to get a breathe of air between waves.

I hear yelling and think someone is yelling to help me. Then I see glimpses of the life guards. They aren’t trying to get someone to help me, they are yelling at me. I was in the area that made the waves, and they were yelling at me that I needed to get out of this area. They thought it was on purpose, and obviously, did not realize I was in crisis.

The waves started to calm, and I quickly swam to the side. I looked around for some sort of comfort or concern, and no one seemed to even notice this occurrence happened. Laughter, joy, happiness, and enjoyment were all around me. This place or terror to me, was a relaxing, enjoyable place for everyone else.

It was probably 2-3 min total. A very small amount of time. Yet I can remember every moment. I felt upset, embarrassed, angry, and tired. How could no one have noticed me? What if they did? What idiot almost drowns in a wave pool? Should I tell anyone? Play this off? I need to lay down. And for goodness sake please don’t cry. Stop crying. You’re so ridiculous Beth.

This is how my life felt every day for 4 years. I was drowning. I was not able to keep my head above the harsh waves. What was just life, work, family, school, etc, was chaos for me. In a constant state of terror and exhaustion. While others were finding joy and excitement doing the same things as me, I was feeling as if I wouldn’t survive. There were many around, but I went unnoticed by most. My struggle was interpreted by others as intentional, or maybe even deserved. I was so weak. Panicking. Waiting for that brief break in chaos and hysteria for a breathe. Slowly realizing help was not coming and I just needed to survive long enough to get somewhere where I could hold on.

And then came the calm. With one last burst of energy, I found my way to safety. Not out of the water, but able to breathe. Looking around for some sort of acknowledgement of my struggle and pain. Feeling embarrassed I could let my life get so out of control. Feeling angry I was unnoticed by so many. Feeling jealous of those who were enjoying life. Feeling bitter toward those who added to my struggle, those who didn’t have the same struggle and I felt deserved it also. Feeling guilty for being so needy for help, like a burden. I was left with everything stripped from me. My confidence, pride, and joy were gone.

Now, I was not nearly as alone as I felt. I did have some very kind friends and family that showed me compassion and concern. But I could not expect others to put themselves in the “danger zone” with me, or they could drown too. They had to help the best they could from where they were at in life. I am thankful daily for this, but I still felt alone an fearful.

Yet, I did survive. Like the wave pool, I am very aware of every moment of this struggle. But what happened after the pool experience? Did I decide to never enjoy a pool or water again? Did I become fearful of any risk of losing control? Absolutely not. That’s not Beth. So I live life, with a deep respect for what can happen, but with complete, honest, love for where I am now. I will always know how helpless it can be, how broken down I can become. And I make a conscious effort to open my eyes for others that may be drowning in life, even if all I can offer is some care when they finally find their calm.

Goodbye Grandma

My childhood was pretty normal. Growing up with divorced parents, lower-middle class, I was given just enough dysfunction to make me normal. I have a pretty good reality base. Every family has their ways of doing things. 

On my dad’s side, my Grandmother was where I found my peace. As soon as my quirkiness slipped out, I would find myself panicking and my anxiety raise. And there she was. She always had a way of calming and accepting me. I never felt judgement, irritation, or any sort of self doubt with her. I just felt love.

One month ago, my grandmother started to have some confusion and headaches. Being a very active, upbeat person, it was hard to see her like this. But we knew it would be ok. It was a UTI….no….it is fluid on the brain….no…it’s…. well…we don’t know. Spinal taps, MRIs, blood work, and repeat. We watched her slowly break down. Then, we found the cause. Cancer.

You wouldn’t think lung cancer when you saw my grandma. She didn’t smoke. Was healthy. Active. Upbeat. Joyful. This cancer had ripped through her body with a vengeance. It had taken my grandmother from that happy lady I saw at Christmas, to a broken, weak, shell. It was heartbreaking.

I went to see her yesterday. I gave her a kiss and told her how much I was going to miss her. How much I love her. And thanked her for everything. I told her goodbye.

She died this morning at about 2:30am. My grief over this is so deep. This wonderful, amazing woman has done for me in my life than you could imagine. The child in me wants to scream, “it’s not fair!!” I want to find her and hug her and tell her all about my day. I want to walk through her garden and let me show me all her new plants. I want to draw her pictures and do magic tricks for her. I want to cuddle up and watch the jungle book with her. I want to sit on her bathroom counter and let her put blush on my cheeks and lipstick on my lips. I want to tell her about my problems and have her tell me everything is ok and that I’m doing great.  I want my grandma back.

But I can’t. So I will cry. I will grieve. And I will try to pull myself together. I love you Grandma. I miss you. And I am so thankful I got to be your granddaughter.

(This was written in Feb 2014 after her death on the 7th)

Appealing With My Curb

It always seemed like such a waste of time, or money to spend THAT much time on your yard. My assumption was that these overly enthusiastic yard workers either really loved being outside, or were just cocky little assholes with nothing else to do but try to be “that house” on the street. Gotta keep up with the Jones’ dontcha’ know.

There was a similar feeling toward those who’s interiors were done with the “look how awesome and creative I am” feel to it.  Themed rooms, with accent colors and features that connect each room. How very Feng Shui. 

Now I’m not talking about keeping up on your yard and house. My yard is always mowed, leaves removed, and sidewalk and driveway cleared of snow. My dishes get done. I dust, scrub, and mop. My house functions fine. I’m talking about the over-the-top perfect straight out of Better Homes and Gardens yards.  And the “I like this page in Pottery Barn, so I will duplicate it exactly” houses. Who cares? It’s all about functionality for this girl! you won’t catch me fretting and in deep contemplation over exactly which picture frame would best keep the desired vibe! I’m a busy mamma and I don’t have time to worry about all that crap!

Then….I grew up. I fell on some hard times. As a newly divorced, single mother of 3, I felt defeated in life. I sat looking out the window of a dated, underwhelming duplex and just felt so worn down. The kids were playing outside, and I remembered my parents working on the yard when I was a child. Hell. Why not? So I grabbed a shovel and started edging the sidewalk. That led to me edging the driveway. I worked and worked, and just got lost in the repetitiveness of the job.

Looking at the work I did left me feeling accomplished and proud. I was SHOCKED at what a difference this one yard task made. Pulling into the driveway, I felt at home, and a pleasant peace. So I took it one step farther. I bought some flowers. I let the kids plant them, and smiled every time I pulled in and saw that pop of color.

 Then next step. Curtains. I was going to buy some flipping curtains so I didn’t have to look at that old window frame. I went to the dollar store and bought some cheap, ugly, curtains. They matched, and that was good enough for me. It was life changing. My living room felt warm and inviting. ho-ly-shit. Who knew?? Not me! 

So here I am, years later, and my house and yard is most definitely decorated and coordinated. Functionality can only take you so far. It may serve our physical needs, but the extra feeds our spirit. It makes it ours. So next time you’re feeling down, spruce your place up a bit! It will give your soul a smile 🙂

Let Me Explain…Oh Nevermind

I remember when I was a kid, watching television shows and movies, and getting SO frustrated with the characters. Why don’t they just EXPLAIN what happened? Being the viewer, I could see what the truth was. And how and why it was misperceived. Of course, the character never explained, and eventually the truth would come out from another source. Which would cause the overly judgemental, angry, jumped-to-conclusions, character to see the truth and then understand. Happy endings for all!

Of course, I felt they could avoid the entire confrontation part of things if they would just talk and explain things. (But I guess then their wouldn’t be much of a story). Why didn’t they though? Why do adults always just let people believe things that are WRONG. Why don’t they ever correct it? Don’t they want people to know the truth?

Then adulthood came. Ah. Now I understand.

You see, I have the big picture view of my life. I understand, not only what my problems are, but why they are problems, and what has and has not worked for me in the past. But these other characters in my life are just passing through. And I cannot explain every aspect to them. Some really want to know. Most do not. Most already have the “you should just” , “why don’t you just” , “I would just” , “I don’t understand why you don’t just”  mentality.

So what do I do? Try each and every time to explain myself? Do you know anyone who does this? They sound like they’re constantly making excuses for themselves and their obvious bad choices. Because if they would do it the “right way” they would not be struggling. They must love turmoil and problems.

I’ve often caught myself trying to explain why I made one choice or another. I’m shut down every time. And it usually ends with me saying, “you know, you’re right! I should try that next time!” Because that’s all they wanted. They don’t want to know you’re ok. They don’t want to understand how you got where you are. They don’t have love, compassion, or any sort of empathy. They have judgement and a sick superiority complex where they HONESTLY believe they just have so much more wisdom or life insight than you do. So trying to explain yourself just looks like justifications or excuses. And agreeing with them pets their obviously overgrown ego. They get to feel that they finally got through to you and your simple mind.

So that’s why grownups don’t waste their time. All we can hope is that (like in the movies) there is a moment where the truth is reveled. Or that the other person faces similar experiences and has a moment of clarity and understanding. A humbling moment that leads to an apology for harsh treatment or condescending, hurtful words. But that just happens in the movies. This is the real world, so I’m not holding my breath.