The Conveyor Belt | Life On Earth

Baggage Handling Belt Conveyor systems (Photo credit: Wikipedia) From the moment we're born until we leave this world, we're stuck in our spot.  We can't move backward, or forward.  Sometimes we fall off, purposefully or not, far sooner than would be expected. That's what this life often feels like to me.  Am I a widget in some cosmic corporate scheme?  I think one of my issues is disconnection.  I never bonded adequately, or something like that.  It matters not, I know.  I'm here; I'm doing whatever I'm doing until I'm done.  The problem is self-awareness, and maybe that contains it all, but I'm also aware of time's progression.  Am I aware of it more acutely than the average human?  I have no idea.  The more I know people, the less I think there's a norm.  I understand that psychology offers a 'norm', or a 'mean', or 'typical' and 'atypical'. I took abnormal psychology as a freshman or sophomore in college, and it changed my world view.  I didn't know that I belonged in that group, although, I did know I was different from my friends.  The problem is – or was – that I'd always been different, so I had nothing to compare my life to except television, and I knew that wasn't real.  I understood that my life was 'atypical' from the first grade, anyway, if not sooner.  I have clear memories of not wanting to ask other kids over because my father might be home, and I didn't know then that he wouldn't have treated them as he treated us, and he probably would have been better to me while I had company.  I wasn't old enough to have perspective, and I'm fucking pissed at the perspective I had forced upon me. Or, at least a part of me is, and rightfully so.  I know I can't play the blame game, and I"m not trying to – regardless of what it looks like – but if you want to tell me about 'personal responsibility', then we need to include my whole world in that discussion.  My parents don't get a pass, just as I don't get one.  I'm perceptive enough to get the 'big picture'.  I know my parents were raised dysfunctionally, as their folks were by those before them, and on and on.  Unto the seventh generation (and beyond?), I paid, as my parents paid, as we all pay.  What is my child carrying?  I hope it's less than what I carried, and I hope that what I carried was less than my parents' burden.  Not that that excuses anything, but it allows an understandable context, somewhat. I've been on this ride for what seems like a long time, and yet, with good health, and good fortune, and no early departure, I can expect nearly half a century more in this lost paradise. Love and pain have always been entwined for me.  I've never had one without the other, and it wasn't for lack of trying.  I can see how that created a self-fulfilling condition, and I take responsibility for that – and I still want that paradigm to change. Am I free now? * * * © seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Life On Earth's Blog, 2010 – infinity. Like this: Be the first to like this post. . Bookmark the .

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