Category: Falling Down

Brand Awareness

The Label

My siblings and friends label me as funny, foolish and sometimes idiot or douche bag.  My parents wished I was labelled a doctor, or lawyer, but those labels don’t suit me.  I’ve been labeled many things, but the label I identify with the most is writer, for better or for worse. Labels help me understand things quicker.  But my love-hate relationship with them would often make me gravitate to brand name labels, and sometimes I’d feel guilty because I felt materialistic in this material world.  Another post on ‘the wise one once said‘ blog got me thinking….  If you haven’t subscribed to the blog yet, you’re definitely missing out on brilliant slices of wisdom from the ages, tailored to your life.

Reading the post, I couldn’t deny ‘who I had loved’.  I felt sad, but the surprising truth was there, and it made perfect sense given my last post about self-image. Though narcissist is just a label to understand my situation from another perspective, it doesn’t mean it allows me to unload blame.  Not my style.  I take responsibility and must recognize the narcissist within myself, because after all, pride, which is my sin, is the same as vanity.  But ‘narcissistically’ speaking, the argument can be made that the brand names are an extension of how I perceive myself, high quality.  But realistically it’s about the meaning I attach to the labels, status.  However, I didn’t let the labels define me.  Regardless of a person’s ‘labels’, there is a deep-seated need to be perceived as a person of high quality and status.  After shaking off the expectations of my parents, friends and ex-partners, I realized I needed to release the need to be more ‘anything’ to them.  But I wanted to be more ‘something’ to myself, and there in lies the difference.

I choose the brands I do because they’ve proven to be trustworthy and reliable to me, and aren’t those qualities we look for in friends?  I’m not adverse to taking chances on unknown labels– Sometimes the fit is brilliant, and comfy, and it becomes something you keep forever.  Conversely, sometimes those brand name labels need to go, because they’re worn out and out of style.  And sometimes you make that amazing find where you don’t have to sacrifice style or comfort, you get’em both, those are classics: clothes, furniture, friends, whatever.  Timeless.

Though I always wanted to be a writer, I didn’t like the ‘starving artist’ label that came with it, and I’m sure my parents hated it even more.  Where was the prestige? Money? Status? Of course I’d love to have them, but I don’t need them.  Underneath the labels, everyone seems to be doing the same thing, ‘being in service’.  Doctors practice saving lives, so that they can in turn save their own. Lawyers by definition, (are supposed to) help solve problems, so they can solve the one’s in their lives.  Writer’s write about life, so they can in turn write their own lives.   Hopefully I’m doing a service, and helping to solve someone’s problem somewhere.  Perhaps, everything I’ve written is simply ‘practice’, but I’m fortunate and grateful to have found a label that suits me.


Caution: Man At Work


“Life is too short to stay angry”, I heard someone say.  And although I completely agree with the statement, when I heard it, my response was “life is too long to live a lie.”  My thoughts surprised me and I began (as usual) analyzing where that response came from.  I believe anger has its place, but dwelling in it, or ‘living there’ is only cause for damage to one’s health.  But I know there’s truth in anger, and it just so happens I was still holding some lingering anger about losing a friendship.  When I’m angry, the only thing I lie about is what I’m actually angry about; only when I’m honest about my anger can I actually get over it.

I could live a relative happy existence suppressing anger because ignorance is bliss.  But knowledge is power, and I need to find a way to feel powerful.  The truth isn’t always wine and roses, sometimes its water and weeds.  Water is essential to life, and weeds always find a way of coming back.  Furthermore, good ol’ JC turned water into wine, and probably saw the beauty in weeds: that is the miracle. Seeing anger for what it is, and turning into something constructive.  My anger is difficult to deal with because I’m not an angry person, and I believe understanding triumphs over anger every time.  I’ve avoided being angry, but that means I’ve avoided the truth. After reading an open letter on Life In The Dash Lane, (a great blog btw), which really resonated with me, I was inspired to explore my own lingering anger.

The friendship I lost encompassed a huge chunk of the social part of my life. They were the “family member” I chose to be around. They were the ally, confidant, counselor. Our friendship had come to an abrupt end; I’m sad for this but I respect and accept it.  While this is an arduous task for me, it is essential for my emotional health to let go of what could have been, to find peace and move forward with life.  I must mourn the friendship of which I was so incredibly emotionally invested in because trying to ignore my emotions would be unhealthy.

Acknowledging my anger means becoming aware of truths.  I was angry at her for destroying my dream, but digging deeper I found that was not really the truth.  Yes, it sucks that my dream was destroyed, but having dreams slip away is part of life.  I dug deeper;  my faith in teachings about love, and doing ‘the work’, and being grateful didn’t exactly help keep the relationship together.  I was angry because I believed in it so much, but the result wasn’t what I expected.  It seemed like a level of blame, so I dug even deeper.  I was angry because I believed that with enough encouragement, the positive within a human would triumph over the negative, and I was proven wrong.  However, that challenging battle is eternal for everyone, so I had to keep digging.  Even after offering hope, encouragement and gratitude it was reciprocated with hopelessness, discouragement and ingratitude: I was angry about the imbalance.  But in retrospect within the grand scheme, it was balanced.  I had to go deeper.  I reached my core and discovered the infuriating shameful truth: Despite her overpowering fear, I still wanted to love her;  it made me feel weak. I refused to admit to myself that after being hurt by this person, I still wanted them in my life, I still cared for their well-being, I still wanted to talk to them, when they chose the exact opposite of all that.

Though I felt weak, I realized what strength it took to dig, to understand, to accept, and to change.  I felt powerful; from inside is where true strength comes from. During my long excavation digging my way into the depths of my core, ‘I saw the light’, and realized how long life actually is, when you take the time to learn the truth.

The Fighter

3 Words

In my corner, I wait anxiously thinking about what brought me here, but that’s my first mistake; I should be in the moment. I’ve studied your moves for years, but I’m just not used to this style of fighting– Tonight, I may lose. The bell starts the fight, and I rush to the centre of the ring. I can feel the eyes of the crowd on me, their anticipation to see what it is I’m going to do. I’m stalling because I don’t know. Your two words pull my heart down to my stomach, leaving me open. I’m paralyzed, unsure of how to proceed. Memories become a tidal wave pressing on my chest. I can’t protect myself. The wounds rip open and spill my precious crimson fluid. I’m a soft rock sinking to the bottom of dark waters. I’m drowning, flooded with choices. But there is only one choice for two words.

Yesterday’s memories pull me out of the present and I want to stay, but it’s not safe. My strength worries me while my weakness comforts me. I think, mull, ponder, question, analyze; I’m haunted, scared, afraid, confused, unsure. With my ego against the ropes, your unseen uppercut brings me down when I needed you to lift me up. Just before the ref can start counting, I’m back on my feet again struggling to duck, dodge and weave my way through the barrage of misdirections, feigned love and shots below the belt. But the hard truth sends me tumbling to the mat; it’s a clean and direct hit: you fell in love and found purpose with someone else.

Bruised, bloodied and beaten, I use every bit of energy just to lift my head. The ref’s count has already begun. My vision is blurred. My head is spinning, and my lungs are on fire. Your two words are ringing in my ears and now the ref’s count reaches eight. Gratitude reminds me to go on, but ungratefulness tells me I’m too weak. Standing, I nod to the ref, letting him know I’m ready to continue, but I don’t think he believes I should try. Taking a deep breath, I step into the moment remembering the advice of one of my trainers, ‘Forgiveness is a virtue of the brave’. I take my stance knowing I must surrender, and offer you, my friend, three words so that we both can win.

Dedicated to all of those who found the strength to forgive.

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