Functioning with the Dysfunctional (yourself)

Relationships that is the name of the game. Everywhere I look, be it married, cheating, dating, contemplating leaving, being in one, or reluctant to enter,  relationships seem to be under a tidal wave of emotions, mixed with justifications, perceptions, and the big one( the lessons)

One would say relationships are work, and should not be thought of as anything other than something you sacrifice; compromise, finding a middle road to sustain. Another would suggest sacrifice as an insult to your being and compromise is just semantics to the suggestion of what sacrifice is. Then of course you have your categorized relationships (the functional, and the dysfunctional) And boy is this topic never-ending..  It starts from A to Z.  A meaning arrogance, and Z meaning, she loved her zebra more than me!!!

One does not ever want to find themselves in a dysfunctional relationship. This portrays a whole in your partner of choice and therefore a whole in yourself.  You may want to seek counsel to iron out the dysfunction of you by choosing to be with someone who has a whole. This seems to be a better way in shifting the blame.  As if it isn’t big enough race as it is  to find that special someone before your ovaries shrink to little raisins and the tiny little laugh lines begin to look like the grand canyon marching across your face.  Lets face it ladies, the saying of aged to perfection may work for wine, but for women  its called whining!! Once you zoom past thirty the clock never breaks.  Now lets throw yet another category of duality into  the sacredness of what it means to love to bog our minds with more dysfunction of ourselves. It is me who is dysfunctional by choosing to be with you who is not functional. Woo hoo!!

WE will call it the god relationship which is perfect ( functional) and full of butterfly’s and dewy rain drops, or the Devil Relationship(dysfunctional) which is the equivalence of that aged old expression the devil made me do it cause I aint accepting any responsibility. Yup that makes sense.

Then there are those, who say they have assumed complete responsibility by choosing to focus on themselves by never leaving room for a relationship to blossom. And they convince themselves that being alone is much better than being in a dysfunctional relationship. Really? Since when was your own arms able to embrace you in a hug, or listen to the rantings of your day as your partner (the devils advocate) suggests another perception other than your own. That kind of interaction aint going to be found on Oprah, or your next self-help book. It can only be found in the act of doing. Not observing what the act of doing may look like, from the comfort of your couch eating bon bons. Talk about dysfunction!!

How much growth can you possibly obtain if you don’t do it through unity and integration of another individual’s view-point?  You can stay in your ivory towers growing your locks of hair, but the cobwebs are growing everywhere. Rapunzel Rapunzel!! throw down, oh never mind, your too damn old to have any hair!!

Lets face it, there is no perfect relationship, functional or dysfunctional, because all are imperfect in your perfect forms. Everyone under construction riddled with dysfunction from every time you encountered disharmony, and pain in your life. You, have built those walls to protect  from this fear of not having control creating the psychosis that goes along with it (the dysfunction)

Dysfunction isn’t being in a dysfunctional relationship. It is categorizing something as dysfunctional to justify your strengths and weaknesses, as a dysfunctional relationship. For the abused become the conqueror, and the abuser becomes the abused. As Buddha  who once lived in dysfunction through the controlling will of his parents as a prince, became a vagabond by dysfunctional means to feel the serenity of himself in a dysfunctional world and freed himself of his dysfunction. We too are doing the same.

The simple fact is just when you think you know, you don’t. Just when you think you have put something in its nice little categorized box, another dynamic of life comes and knocks you out of your “obsessive compulsive disorder”  Sorry, but your underwear drawer can no longer be coordinated by color.  The blues will have to touch the reds at some time, and your willingness to control everything around you will be squashed, until you submit your next subscription to faith. Faith in yourself, faith in others, faith, that all is as it should be, and the faith to always choose love. No matter where it leads you, into a dark alley, or upon rainbows is the tandem relationship with god mimicked in man. Why do you think they call it “making love”  and if god is love, then what do you think you are making when you choose to be vulunerable and naked as you once was? To let go of your fear, to trust, to feel the guidance, opening your eyes seeing the love sewn into every fiber of your life. And for those who are in a relationship contemplating if it is worth it.

Don’t worry it always becomes clear in time. Perhaps not in the time frame you want it to be in, but it always resonates within you. One day you just wake up knowing. So stop your psycho babble, self destructive analyzing between the lines, it gets you no where but more self doubt.

Its like cooking spaghetti. You can never tell that its done just by looking at the pot.  You have to throw it on the wall, and see if its sticks. If you are in doubt just remember god stirs the pot. Sometimes your damn free will needs to be shaken a bit.

Relationships, are not meant to be easy cause you certainly weren’t easy. Hence the story of the Garden of Eden. Even when you did have perfection it wasnt enough, you still needed duality. We needed to run around in circles a thousand life times apparently just to come back to the origin of being aware but not needing to be aware. And you call this knowledge, and wisdom? A wisdom you have somehow convinced yourself that the only way to know is from comparison of what good and bad is? That your success is based on someone elses failure? That your functional living with a dysfunctional person?  Hope that apple was worth it?

You will not have the luxury of living in your black and white world unless you are a zebra, and even then you have to worry about the next predator eating you for dinner. Did you really think it was going to be that easy? Did you really think I would be the parent who would bail you out of jail on one of your late night drink fests? All you have is a choice now make one. You can choose to let go,and trust that someone other than yourself may have the answers, or keep glued to that cliff by your fingernails. And remember not making a choice, is making one.. Oh and the wind is blowing..

Sincerely

The Universe (also known as god)

Where are you Christmas?

My son, the inquisitor, asked me the other day What is Christmas mom?  The irony is when he asked this question, I was on the phone with my Reiki Master, elaborating on the very subject at hand. He said to me it seems Christmas is a big puzzle, like god. Just when you think you understand it in one moment, then, in the  next you don’t.  I laughed at the abstract value of his question, even asking myself how do I explain something to him, that even most adults can’t understand for themselves.  Each year we celebrate a day based on a Christian Holiday, to give homage to a man(jesus) who was the example of love towards our fellow-man. Yet as our history dictates, this day was taken from a Pagan holiday, and has little to do with Christianity. I do not argue this point. For to me it is meaningless as to how the day was created, or its origin, but the reason as to why it was created, and why we celebrate it.  I only add this tid bit of information to show the complexity of a day, that we eagerly celebrate, based on an idea, that different belief systems have generated. Some call it Hannaka, others call it the Winter Solstice, Quanza, and many others, either way we celebrate it.

For one brief second I paused, thinking upon how would I answer this question. For the subject of Christmas, was just as complex as the subject of love. And before I could utter a word, my son seeing the struggle inside of me to answer, began to formulate more questions, validating his own lack of clarity on the subject.

It seems, he said that Christmas is about giving. And I know it’s about Jesus, but how did Santa Claus become apart of it? I thought i knew, he said, but then Santa Claus isn’t even real, and that isn’t his real name. His real name is Nicholas, and he was once a man, who lived and gave to the children. But then how is it that he flys on reindeer? And how can we say, that we believe in Christmas, to celebrate it, when we know Santa Claus isnt real? And how do we know that Jesus was real, or is he just like Santa Claus, something we created, so as to celebrate a day, that we dont even know what its about?

I laughed, as a nervous mom would, with an infusion of pride for my son, in asking such big questions, that most eight year olds dont even question, and go with the flow, of gift giving. He wanted to know. For to him it was important, as to give meaning as to why he was celebrating it.

For almost three years now, I have been in a relationship with a man, who was raised as a Jehovah’s witness. And each year, I have struggled, with his general disregard of Christmas day, as I have tried to push my ideas upon him for the sake of providing a Christmas for my children. And each year, as I have done so, I have seen the making of my own illusions surface. For Christmas day, wasnt about Jesus for me, or Santa Claus, but to heal  past wounds for all the Christmases, I had seen, without one trace of magic. My family was poor, and so at a young age, the myth of Santa Claus was not afforded to me. The harsh reality that Santa Claus wasnt real would be from over hearing the adults talking in frustration how they weren’t going to be able to buy presents for the kids. I remember those moments, and the tense feeling in the air, each year as the month of December would be upon us. And many times even dreaded as Christmas would approach, for fear of the disappointment, I would encounter. The luster of Christmas was lost for me, as I would return to school, listening to the kids recount all the presents they received, feeling as if salt was being rubbed in my wounds. I remember that feeling, as if  I wasnt worthy enough to receive presents.

As an adult, I did not want the same for my own children, and so each year, no matter the circumstances, I would make sure my children would have stacks of presents under the tree.  This year, I felt the diminishing of my own expectations, upon a day I had in the previous years emphasized. And in doing so, the real spirit of Christmas surfaced for me.

I explained to my child, that Christmas really isnt any other important day then the next. That Christmas is only a message, as to how we should be each and every day to everyone. That it is the one day out of the whole year, where it is commonly accepted to take the day off, and celebrate not the act of giving gifts, but to know that everything in your life is a gift. Santa Claus, is a mythical figure taken from the real man, Saint Nicholas who celebrated his common man, by giving to those who are unfortunate, as he did with all the children. He was an orphan, a man who lost his family at a young age, and was taken in by many villagers to raise. In his appreciation of what they had given to him, he gave back by making toys for all the children who had become his own brothers and sisters. He chose the Christmas Holiday, because this is the day in which was celebrated for the birth of Christ (Christmas) For christ too, was a Saint, who gave to his fellow-man, many gifts, (love) and the message of love. It matters not if he was real or not, as some would argue he wasnt. What matters is the idea presented, the spirit of giving. Christmas does not have to be, nor is it about one day. But unfortunately we sometimes do not take time to celebrate, unless an empahsis is placed upon it for us to do so. As you have a spirit, that you cannot see, you still know its real. You believe it to be real, not because you can touch it, but because you can feel it, within your own being. It isnt Christmas to be celebrated, or Santa Claus, or Jesus, but the spirit of Christmas. The spirit of Christmas is real, for it lives within us, as we all want to do good, and be good, and give to another, to show, and demonstrate acts of kindness and love.

As complex as this may sound, as I explained it to my son, he understood this more than he did a man named Jesus, or Santa Clause, or any of the other belief systems we have generated, and so did I. For this year, my own belief systems as to what Christmas is, absolved me of guilt, and hurt I have carried for many years.  And this didnt become any more clearer, until me and my Son loaded bags of presents in our car, to give to a orgnaization who protect the abused (Safe Space) I this year, gave back to the child I once was. Remembering what it was like to have very little control, and relying on adults who could not provide me the magic. This year I would be that adult who helped provide the magic for a an unfortunate child,both me and my son would play host as Santa Claus ourselves, honoring the real tradition of Christmas. As we pulled up to the secluded place, heavily guarded by gates, and security, we understood what Christmas was really about, both he and I, feeling the puddle of our hearts fuse together in one glance to each other, silent without words. And as I drove away, leaving the imprinted image of happy smiles, so did I leave behind the imprint of my own lost smile so many years ago. I found myself very blessed this year in abundance, and was able to give back in a big way, clearing myself of the cobwebs, formulated in my own psyche, and letting go of years of hurt, and the expectation of a Christmas I felt I needed to provide for my own children. Freeing Christmas of the choke hold I had placed upon it, that had created more struggle than joy. It made me think, as to how many people live in this place. And that christmas for many has lost its meaning, as we are lost trying to find our way, as to what it means to us as individulas, and not what has been thrusted upon us by our upbringing and politically correct social standing.

This year as my partner, a child once raised as a Jehovah witness, shopped in a heavily filled mall for presents for his nephew ridden with cancer, understood what Christmas was about too. It wasnt about his principles, his beliefs, his stubbornness, to celebrate a day he believed to be contrived, and commercialized, but to let go of his own beliefs, so as to celebrate what little life his nephew may have, on a day that is about the magic of giving.  He gave, by letting go, too.

Christmas day we all surrounded a brightly lit tree. My son, understanding the principles of gift giving, painted a keep sake box for his sister, with a picture of her as a child on the top of it. My daughter, 19 years of age, made homemade cards, for both me and my partner, enbossed by glitter, and a mosaic of pictures upon it. We  opened our presents, some were homemade, some came from a heavily commercialized mall. Both having an equal value of another.  And after the presents were opened, we then sat around the dinner table with a festival of food, taking time to talk, to be compassionate, loving, and soft, celebrating our time together, as it is always fleeting. The magic was in the air,and the feeling as if time had stopped, lingered, so as to feel it, see it, and taste it. This year, many beliefs, ideas were integrated, and taken apart. We encompassed it all, by letting go, of our own perception, and taking on another. This year, the spirit of Christmas, that seems lost, as we all fight to understand what Christmas is, was found, on homemade gifts, commercialized gifts, a visit to a sick boy with cancer, bags of gifts given to the unfortunate, and the loss of all ideas formulated upon a day, that wars are fought over. There was no religion, no belief systems to stand as a wall between us. It was free and flowing..

Where are you Christmas, you were found.

Much love

Misty Dawn