Aimless Meanderings

Well, I was just getting over the last one when my little guy was hit with his. Staying up all night with him weakened the immune system. Bang! Hit with another. It's kind of unavoidable though. There are a billion different cold and various other viruses waltzing through the air. Everyone is stressed with the trying to get prepared for the holidays too. So we're all getting hit.

Anyway. I was thinking today about why people do what they do. Why we all do what we do. You ever do or say something on impulse, then sit there, open mouthed, wondering why you just did or said what it was you did or said? I know that the writing makes me more susceptible to impulsivity. So do they holidays, when I'm feeling kind of ungrounded anyway.

But I'm a firm believer that we are where we've been. We are everything that ever worked to shape us from the day we were born. Good and bad. You can be armed with all kinds of knowledge about human behavior, but what shaped us is so ingrained in us, we can still react in ways that make us uncomfortable when looking back at them.

I know that the way I grew up makes me crave both stillness and chaos. It's a double edged sword. I grew up with chaos all around me, and learned to be still in the midst of it. I search out calm people. People who are grounded. But sometimes I'm still attracted to chaotic situations that aren't the best for me.

Even the four years of fairly intense Psych training for the Social Work degree doesn't save me from this. It's a psychological blue print in my brain that is very hard to modify. I also still want to rescue every lost cause I come across. I can still change from still and calm to white hot fury when I see somebody being bullied. If I'm bullied, I dig my heels in. It's not the way to get me to do anything. And I feel protective of anyone who is bullied.

Water seeks its own level. When I'm feeling a little sad or lost, my weakness will find and turn to its mirror image. Like a compass. I can sense it. The sense of loss or sadness, or emptiness in somebody else will call to me. It's like a magnet. Then I want to rescue and soothe.

I've never been all that much for alcohol or recreational drugs. They don't do a thing for me. I search for escape and distraction through other means. Writing and exercise being a couple of those ways. Soothing a wounded spirit is another. Being reckless is another. This is part of the craving for chaos. I reach for this method of soothing myself much less these days. Every once in a while it'll seem really attractive to me. Impulsivity. Which is odd for a person like me, who usually thinks out everything.

I'm full of contradictions.

Something reminded me yesterday of the one male role model who was really good in my life growing up. My older brother. He's also full of contradictions. He's a hard ass military man who is also has an incredible artistic talent. He can draw a portrait, having no formal training, the likeness being close to a photograph. He can design and sew costumes for halloween or theater endevours. He's was also amazing at set design and is an incredible carpenter. He can cook like a mo-fo. And he's had decades of various types of marshal arts training.

He'll go off by himself for days, get lost in the woods and find his way out again when he's good and ready. Yet hes' the guy that everyone loves when they meet him. He's friendly and funny, and sensitive, yet I've seen him back down a group of very scary guys in our rough part of town, with the look on his face, the tone of his voice, and the 'don't fuck with me' stance. He stepped in and rescued a guy from a very bad situation. Told him to run and kept the other guys standing there with just his stance.

He's only five-foot six. Short and stocky. But he's not one to mess with. Yet he's a peacemaker. A man ready to go to war, who is the first to stop a fight.

He also caused me more bruises and a nose bleed or two making sure I was tough enough to kick ass if I had to. "Get up little sis. Come on! Show me whatcha got!" I still smile thinking of this.

We don't talk much. Maybe once a year or two. An email here and there. We really don't need to. Our history is such that we are painful reminders to each other of where we've been, which wasn't always a nice place to be. So we are comforted by our blood ties while simultanously withdrawing from each other. He's still the coolest guy I know (Aside from my fella. Who is ultra cool. But that's another post).

Why do I think of my brother now? Christmas. Of course. Do I make that awkward call? Or do I skip it because it's uncomfortable for both of us. Do I wait to call until it's late enough in the evening that he's had enough holiday cheer to be able to have a conversation with me? It's how he gets through Christmas. Lots and lots of holiday cheer. Then he's okay the rest of the year.

I skipped it last year. I just didn't have the energy or the heart.

Yeah. I'm rambling. And I don't care. This is my holiday cheer, folks. This is my escape and my distraction, and my way to soothe myself.

This is me being reckless.