On Blame...

"When you blame others, you give up your power to change."-Robert Anthony

Explain to me when it became okay to pass the buck? Point fingers? Blame everything and everyone for our problems and shortcomings except the person in the mirror?

A little while ago I wrote about my inability to be affectionate, and Irene brought up the point that who we are today is a direct reflection of the people who raised us. And I was reluctant to accept that for the whole time after she wrote that comment.

I don't ever want to blame someone else for the shit storm I've created in my life; I'm a grown-up who made conscious decisions knowing full well what the consequences would be. How could that be anyone's fault but mine?

But the more I meditated on it, the more validity her comment had. It especially hit home after a discussion I had with Minnie one night about our moms. I won't go into full details here, but I suppose I had one of those Oprah "light bulb moments" during our talk and came to the conclusion that yes- part of the reason that I cannot show or accept affection, is that my mother didn't show me any affection after a certain age.

Sure, there are countless tales in the family archives of us being attached at the hip way back in my toddler days, but I don't remember any of it. In fact, the only time I remember her embracing me for real for real was that time, while she was still pregnant with Mari, that my puppy ran off and I was so heartbroken all I could do was cry in her arms. And she let me.

And I suppose I didn't think I needed it, applauded her brand of tough love which in turn made me into this tough cookie you see before you today who is independent and strong and knows how to get through each day. Besides, I was shown affection by every other member of my family, so I figured I had enough of it. Except, I guess, from the person I needed to get it from.

I can't say if I'd be me if I *had* been hugged everyday by my mom- you know how much I hate the shoulda woulda coulda's of life- so let's not even go there.

But here's what's what... it feels weird when people like me. Or when they touch me. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. This feeling also extends to my kids.

And I don't want it to feel weird when K or N hug me; I want them to come to me when they're sad and whatnot, seek my advice on things, lay their heads on my lap when they've had one of those days.

I'd like to one day, when I meet a nice gentleman, not treat him like shit just 'cause I can. Because I have some twisted mentality of "I'll screw you before you screw me and then I can save face when it all falls apart." Because god forbid I show any signs of possessing any actual emotions! OH, THE HORROR!!

Maybe let him open the door for me without handing out a side eye; accept a gift without a sarcastic remark; and oh, who knows, maybe one day even say "I love you" and mean it... wouldn't that be nice?

Maybe even not want to die from humiliation because *gasp* someone saw me cry.

(Even as I type this I'm shuddering at the thought of all that yucky mushiness, although part of me wants it.)

So I've realized- there's no time machine to fix all the past mistakes. I can't do anything about the issues my mom had that made her who she is, that in turn made me such a harsh person.

All I can do is make it right from this moment forward.

*smooches...and hugs and love and good cyber-vibes*
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this evolution shit is HARD! why can't I already be the person I want to be?? Life... you're giving me agita...UGH!