I danced around, like Ravi does
Day after day, singing:
I a princess
I a ballerina
I a cowboy
I Cindallela
I was whoever I chose to be until tension, crackling like lightening through dark clouds of grief, engulfed my little corner of the world within such a black hole of despair as to have hot-wired a precocious little girl's intuitive powers to go to great lengths to save my loved ones' spirits from succumbing to relentless rip tides of emotional pain; however it was not until recent years that Fate offered my self awareness reason to perceive that over my lifetime, my empathetic presence had called forth a heartfelt sense of inner strength, which proved more soothing to others than I'd consciously known ... And on the flip side of that coin, I'd also remained blind to this deeper truth: Having been taught to draw forth my smile to act as my umbrella whenever my spirit felt need to grieve over my loss of a loved one served to deepen my sense of inner conflict by separating my personal pain from my conscious attitude, which defied reality by clinging so bravely to positive focus as to suppress oceans of tears, left unshed, collecting in the subconscious portion of my brain until something would stir my inner turbulence of repressed grief, which was bound to swell, swirl and pour out so as to reveal powerful waves of angst, which, upon crashing through my wall of denial, drowned my life force of every last drop of energy, leaving my spirit, sans sparkle, feeling so gravely bereft of life sustaining sunshine as to suggest why eventually, my smile, like that of The Cheshire Cat, languished alone midair until every last drop of joy had been drained dry, suggesting that at times when hope (for change for the better) feels utterly beaten, tis wise to remind oneself that cats have nine lives!
Before the age of three
I was not meant to seek relief from anxiety (itching under my skin) by scratching at night while, day after day, I'd drifted dispiritedly from one loved one's confounded frown to another. And being as egocentric as small children are known to be, I'd ask myself, what did I do that was so terrible as to cause my family to lose their smiles ... maybe forever ... (and as the limited vocabularies of small children have not yet developed the mental ability to think complicated thoughts ...
After the age of three
My survival instinct kicked in, jumpstarting my intuitive need to leap over the classic nature of early childhood's egocentric development in order to subconsciously appoint myself The Family Fixer after fear of emotional abandonment had planted that ambitious 'plan' within the repressed portion of a precocious preschooler's brain at a time when not one adult think tank could conjure up a magic wand so powerful as to banish dark clouds of sorrow, which had descended over our kingdom, once our precious baby could not be awakened from her nap, and as no magical fairy or charming prince, cantering upon a prancing white steed, appeared to rescue any of our dragging spirits from this tragic spell that extended over many months, and as nothing I did could lift the gloom resultant of my family's relentless agony, today's intuitive stream of consciousness offers us this string of insights to spotlight why an imaginative child's innate power of imaginative association breathed life into stories highlighting Cinderella's heartfelt kindness, The Ugly Duckling's self demeaning loneliness, Sleeping Beauty's awakening to love's first kiss, and most especially, Snow White, who like Eve, had need to bite into an apple before awakening to the knowledge that after her Rip Van Winkle-like sleep, she had many lessons to learn concerning personal need to muster the courage to empower her voice with a self confident sense of assertiveness, thus ensuring that she'd not look back some day to see that her deeply buried, subconscious sense of terror had denied her the freedom to live life to the fullest, and once that truth filtered into my conscious awareness, I saw need to embrace the humility necessary to identify and nip my self defeating attitude in the bud, thus rescuing my diminished sense of self worth from denying my lovability so defensively as to free my conscious mind to switch tracks from self disparagement, which deemed me unlovable toward absorbing love flowing toward me as joyfully as my sincerity offered love, openly, thus disempowering my self defeating pattern of self protection from provoking misunderstandings based in my survival instinct's need to pitch curve balls that dizzied the head of the most self assured batter, who'd stepped up to the plate, hoping to connect, only to strike out and return to the dugout, scratching his head ... And that dilemma begs the answer to a question, which, has dizzied my smarts, catalyzing my conscious awareness to feel stymied, concerning my subconscious need to embrace one of three roles:
Am I a character in my life story in need of saving?
Or
Am I the voice-over narrator?
Or
Am I the main character whose valiant sense of courage had gained the lovestruck strength necessary to break the wicked spell that the fickle finger of Fate had cast over my mind, catalyzing my belief that I am responsible for saving every person whose inner sense of loneliness chances to intersect with mine, like the year when I invited a random stranger to Thanksgiving dinner, or the time when a stranded damsel in distress, whom I'd met by chance at our airport, was welcomed as a houseguest for three days while everyone who knew me shook their heads, rolled their eyes and laughed aloud as if to say ... there she goes again, saving the world, singlehandedly ... and though the brevity of those anecdotes describes the empathetic nature of my spirit, let's be reminded of the anxious side of my mind, which had laid in wait for the other shoe to drop as if by dropping my guard, I'd feel as abandoned and lonely as had been true before my third birthday, which corresponds to our precocious Ravi's age, today, bringing to mind our sweet, strong spirited little girl, whose active imagination literally knows no bounds as she stands before us in her princess gown, waving her 'madik' wand over our heads right before offering sweet kisses that soothe our boo boos away just as our kisses soothe hers ...
Interesting isn't it that the word grave slipped ever so
Quietly into today's train of thought, early on, as though
Many months of grief, deepening ever more tragically by
The undeserved guilt heaped upon my mother's
Anguished spirit in the immediate aftermath of Janet's
Inexplicable demise made all the difference, concerning
The choices I've made over most of my life until such time
As my magical mind and irrepressible strength of spirit
Collapsed into a state of utter exhaustion, and having
Known how much my spirited sense of humor had
Loved to laugh and learn. Fondle and tickle, tease and frolic
You can see why every atom that had multiplied to
Reshape a sweet child into a woman named Annie felt
Utterly compelled to spotlight the main source of my
Inner torment, and unless you're new to my blog
You pretty much know how I grew from a frightened
(Yet strong spirited) child, whose conjoined fears of
Death, emotional abandonment and bullying mean-
Mindedness had silenced the assertive side of
My voice from rocking boats until recent
Growth spurts, spurred by love, inspired
My newly inspired sense of wholeness to take
Self respecting leaps of faith, offering
My adult connection to emotional intelligence reason to
Develop today's matured sense of self assured readiness to
Work single-mindedly toward restructuring
A refortified sense of my diminished self worth by
Discharging myself from self imposed guilt, which had
Made me feel personally accountable for ensuring
My adult family's connection to safety, and now
Having freed my creative center to expand
My sense of choice to conscientiously refocus
My mind's eye toward conjuring up
'Fix-It' plans (similar to those which had proved so
Successful as to have inspired my sons to develop
Existential voices of their own) my personal sense of
Success in that challenging arena has inspired my
Intuitive sense of self awareness to conjure up
Three step plans to tame my own subconscious bouts of
Anxiety by shoring up an inner sense of self disciplined
Mental serenity most especially at times when
My loved ones seem to have more screws loose in
Their heads than my intuitive sense of deeper truth
Suggests is true of me, and in hopes of setting
Undeserved guilt aside so I can think straight while
My heart remains connected with loved ones, who
Prove so reactive as to spiral their defensive angst
(As quickly as our Dreydls spin when
Chanukah rolls round) directly at me, my intuitive
Self awareness must coach my conscious mind's
Proactive connection to positively focused change to
Maintain the patience necessary to relax my anxiety before
My spirit runs out of gas, causing my brainstorming
Solution-seeking plans to fall short of success, and
Thus do we come to see why my intuitive powers felt
Need to coach my conscious awareness to invite the word
Grave to make a cameo appearance in today's
Post, highlighting my need to grieve and bury, not
Hope, but rather my subconscious attitude of
Negativity, which, has waited for the other shoe to
Drop, serving to undermine my strength of
Spirit, which, if deeper truth be so bold as to
Speak aloud today, would charge my wholesome
Sense of inner strength with feeling as positively focused as is humanly possible for a person with an ego, a defense system and a survival instinct homesteading inside my head, and thus do we come to see my need to remind myself with greater frequency that no one can stoke a reactive brain to feel perpetually happy, hopeful, creative, serene, courageous, positively focused and high spirited most especially when the powers of leadership turn blind eyes and deaf ears to the thunderous footbeat of fears running rampant throughout our entire world, today, and though this is not an up note upon which to end today's post, tis time to rest the intuitive wand inside my head that taps into the mindful magical majesty of memory, which conjoins proactively with the creative center that exists within every human brain, for this reason: Tis time for my personal sense of happiness to emerge, inspiring my serious mindset to switch tracks from reflecting soulfully about emotional reactiveness, which connects Graves and Grief with undeserved Guilt and Grave, in favor of proactively embracing today's heartfelt sense of eagerness born of the fact that I'm about to ready my carriage to fetch Princess Ravi, whose happy spirit feels as eager to enjoy today's mutually enriching play date as is true of mine
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