a life that makes sense

There are certain things that have an utterly involuntary hold on my heart.  There is no shaking them.  

My utter belief - my knowing - that we are meant to be tribal wasn't learned.  It was in my heart since forever.  That meant sticking by Mom when she needed me, even if it was inconvenient, even if it meant heart break.  

I didn't give my support in an unthinking - "Anything you want, Mother." - way.  Part of my support included doing what I could to help her get a better, clearer, more constructive experience of herself.  In other words, I could be a real pain in expecting her to think for herself, which meant knowing herself - something she resisted doing.  

That's what I believe families are meant to do.  We didn't ask to be thrown together with these other people, some of whom we have nothing in common with other than shared genes.  But we were.  How can we help each other be our best self, meet our personal goals?  

My utter belief - my knowing - that John is my own true love didn't evolve & grow over time.  It arrived, full blown, on our first real connection, as close to "he is mine" & "she is mine" as you're going to get in this life.  

He wasn't in the least bit convenient - my life was just fine, thank you, without a love interest.  Just like my feelings about family & parents, I had no say over loving John.  It isn't easy, but it is.  I could no more part from John than I could turn my back on Mom - or Mim or Peter, for that matter, if I felt that what I could offer would really help meet their needs, without damage to mine.

My utter belief - my knowing - that life is meant to make sense to each of us has been part of my heart since forever.  John makes sense.  Being there in a healthy way for my family, especially for Mom, makes sense.  But a large part of my life doesn't make sense, has never made sense.  And I have been totally ineffective in getting it to make sense.

From my earliest days, I was a remarkably messy person.  Until my teens, I shared a room with Mim.  It was always messy.  Occasionally, Mom would wade in & clean it up, which delighted me as much as it bothered Mim.  But when I got my own room - which has been for most of my life - it was always a mess.  Today, you wouldn't believe how the computer studio looks.  It definitely does not work.  

From kindergarten through college, my areas at school were always a disaster.  Notebook, desk, locker, mail box - crammed with papers.  In elementary school, I'd regularly have to miss recess to clean out my desk.  You'd think that alone would shame me into doing better.  Doing better never dawned on me.  I was labeled "lazy," but it was much more.  I don't know what, but I know.

it boils down to this - messy doesn't make sense.  it just doesn't.  When you're the sort of messy I am, life unravels.  Important messages are missed, important dates are forgotten.  it goes beyond not looking good - deep down in my heart, it doesn't feel good.

It's not laziness.  It feels like a giant NO sign is in me somewhere.  In the marrow of my bones?  In my mind?  In my heart? In my soul?  In my spirit?  Don't know where, but it's in there, aggressively keeping me from doing what makes sense.  

And I really hate things that don't make sense.  

My reality is that my norm didn't make sense.  Not in my childhood, not in my adolescence, not in my adulthood.  My norm didn't begin making sense until I did the most insensible thing of all - fell in love.  Fell in love with the right guy.  Fell in love with someone who embody healthy communication.  Fell in love with someone who wanted me to be me, whatever that might be.  

Now, most of me & my life makes sense.  But something has clamped onto  the part that doesn't & won't be shaken off, like it's making its stand by throwing up resistance to my literally cleaning up my act.  If the mess goes, what will have happened to the Elsa who existed before this Deev appeared on the scene?  That makes NO sense!  But prying it out of my life...  Ah, that's the rub.  

Kim asked what I want to get out of seeing her once a month.  I couldn't, because it would be a guess.  It's not a question of what do I want to get from seeing her, it's what do I want, that seeing her is part of (confusing enough?).  I want a life that makes sense to me.  

That's not just some personal desire - it is an utter necessity.  Doing what I can to change our current day culture's view of aging is a desire woven into the very fabric of my being, an expression of my belief - my knowing - that we are here to help others be the best version of themselves possible.  And I won't be able to make any substantial contributions if I'm living a life that doesn't make sense.  

Maybe that's why I'm ready now to face whatever needs facing & change whatever needs changing.  Having life mechanics that don't make sense, that leave me with clogged living areas (the front room & car are tidy, which is a start) & whatever that does to the mind & spirit, will hamper what I feel called pulled pushed to do in the larger community nation world.

What do I want to get from Kim & other constructive influences?  A life that makes sense, whatever it takes to make it so.       .