Saturday, December 23, 2017, 1345 Hrs.
After considering the matter more thoroughly than I have ever done before, I have decided that I don’t like spinach!
I know, this must seem like a really weird title and opening line, but, I have my reasons for both so I will get into telling what it all means, and I won’t take up too much of your time in doing so.
I grew up in a middle-class family, in the ghetto area of our home city. We had what we needed, and we had some of the wants as well, but it wasn’t easy for my parents to make sure that this existence was provided to us kids. My parents worked hard, not that this is a problem, it’s just how they did what they did for us at this time in our lives.
I never complained about what I didn’t have or any such thing because I had the benefit of having grandparents who told me how things had changed for my parents, and how much sacrifice it took on the parts of the generations before them, to make it this way. I found the stories fascinating and intriguing to hear. These were tough people, to face all that they had, and still come out of it not being hateful and aggressively dismissive of their grandchildren.
One day though, a situation came up, and this situation was dinner.
My mother had decided to make some spinach with dinner and it was no problem at first because I’d never had any before, so it was just going to be something new for me to like that my mother had cooked, as far as my mind was thinking. We all sat down for dinner and I started eating and my mom asked me “how do you like the spinach?” I hadn’t tried it yet, so I picked up a fork full of the stuff and put it into my mouth: “Eeewwwww, this is nasty!” I shouted as I removed it as quickly as I could.
Mom wasn’t too pleased with my reaction. I told her I just don’t like the way that it tastes, and I didn’t want to eat it. She said; “with children starving in India, you don’t want to eat?” I told her “not this stuff, you can send it to India!” she said that it “tastes like greens, just eat it!” I couldn’t, I couldn’t even put another fork of it into my mouth. She asked me later why I couldn’t eat it, what was it about it that made me not like it. I told her that it just didn’t taste good to me. She never made spinach for me, again after this.
This is what I tell to my companion, PTSI, I just don’t like the way that you make me feel, and I want you to leave me the hell alone! I know that to some, especially those who are absent of the specter of emotional illness, this may seem to be a trite and irrelevantly light strengthening exercise to commit to, but it works for me, so I’ll keep going this way until something better comes along. I don’t feel that every attempt at being whole has to be constructed like an intricate skyscraper plan, sometimes you just leave it to simplicity.
I think that personalizing my demons, make them less frightening for me to deal with. I name my pain, and I keep it on a first name basis because, hiding, or trying to ignore what cannot be hidden from or ignored, just gives it that much more power over me, and I’m not for that, not at all!
You see? I told you I would keep it short, and I have!
One more thing I would like to add here.
Merry Christmas to all of you! Please, remember to stand upon your strengths and allow them to counter your weaknesses. Never give in to the motivation to give up!
Joy, love, control, and peaceful journeys.