Once my sense of centeredness tipped, what might we expect to happen?
Rather than seeing myself as I am, I'll see only that which I believe to be true.
If my self image remains rooted in what had shaped up at an earlier age then I'll not recognize changes for the better taking place, right before my eyes. And as long as my self-image remains stuck in the past, certain aspects of my current life will confound me to say the least. In short, I'll walk further and further into a maze where my mental block will blind me from seeing doors, windows and safety nets offering me freedom from confusion, inner conflict and self inflicted pain.
If my self image remains rooted in what had shaped up at an earlier age then I'll not recognize changes for the better taking place, right before my eyes. And as long as my self-image remains stuck in the past, certain aspects of my current life will confound me to say the least. In short, I'll walk further and further into a maze where my mental block will blind me from seeing doors, windows and safety nets offering me freedom from confusion, inner conflict and self inflicted pain.
When self-image does not match reality, we see ourselves as though peering into a fun house mirror. And as long as my self image unknowingly hangs on to what had shaped up in the past, every attempt to provide me with a newly improved vision of myself will confuse me even more—because La La Land may be the only place where I'll feel safe—safe from what? Safe from yesteryear’s most painful truths, which my defense system had anesthetized and buried, subconsciously, each time I sat down inside that van.
At times, denial minimizes pain. At times, denial exacerbates pain in this way: If we can’t see ourselves as we are, today, then we may also be blind to those times when repressed fear flings pain at those we love.
You see, we can't be ‘true’ to those we love until we've learned to be true to ourselves, through and through—and …
We can’t be true to ourselves until we know ourselves in depth.
And
We can't know ourselves in depth until we've identified repressed fears
And
We can't know ourselves in depth until we've identified repressed fears
and
If we can't muster the courage to know the sum of our parts
Then this mind twister makes me ask:
What deeper truths do we need to identify that are secreted inside?
Only the Shadow (mind) knows for sure.
Today, when I feel dispirited, I no longer sit others in the hot seat, pointing fingers of blame while pining for days gone by. The days of asking: Why me? Are long gone. Instead, I consider the duplicitous state of human nature and question the unpredictability of life. And with those changes in my attitude, I wonder which of my perceptions are still as half-baked, today, as when I was an inexperienced child. And time after time, I find that it’s no easier to be a person at any stage of life than it is for Kermit to be green.
With today’s train of thought in the forefront of our minds, let's walk into the cloak room of my sixth grade class and watch Joseph stuffing a newly laundered hat into his coat sleeve right before hanging his jacket on a hook. Annie has just entered the cloakroom, as well, and while removing her jacket and hanging it next to his, she smiles at the back of Joseph's head and says hi. At this point, before exposing what’s about to happen once Joseph turns and sees Annie, I’d like to invite you to ride sidekick in my time machine. Why? Because once this moment in time is frozen in place, we can collect a few more pieces of the most puzzling aspects of my personality, which will help us to assemble the bigger picture of my life’s story—so please buckle up, because once I throw the gear shift into reverse, we'll jet straight back in time—
Beginning in kindergarten and through fifth grade, I attended a large city school, which is why my first view of the building that housed my small suburban school came as quite a surprise. In fact, as my mom, sister, and I approached this little red school house, I felt like Laura in THE LITTLE HOUSE ON THE PRAIRIE, because here is what met my eyes: I saw a proverbial, square shaped, red brick structure with four classrooms on the first floor and four on the second. Each classroom housed grades one through eight, the kindergarten being in the basement.
Whereas certain details are of no consequence to a story, the exclusion of pertinent details can twist a tale (or a person’s most admirable traits) completely out of wack. The school was small, because the suburb we’d moved to was in its infancy.
In fact, if I direct your attention four blocks west of my new school, we’ll see the corner lot where my father had built his dream house. Now if we look to the south, we’ll see houses under construction on both sides of our street. Then if I ask you to look one block to the north of our house, you’ll see a lonely, three-story, brown, brick apartment building, standing all alone. However before too long, this structure, housing three families, will be surrounded by new homes on every side, causing the apartment building, which been there first, to seem out of place. I brought that detail to your attention for this reason: As soon as Joseph takes a step toward me in my classroom’s cloak room, the morning after our FIRST KISS, I am going to feel as ‘out of place’, as had been true while riding in THAT VAN.
Generally speaking, it’s easy to forget that every living thing remains in a constant state of change. Since people are living things, that means you and I are constantly undergoing the process of change, as well—in some ways for the better in other ways for the worse. So, if the only constant in life is change, then people who say they can’t change (with the times) must be sadly mistaken, because, in truth, nothing that lives stays the same, very long.
It’s also true that working toward making positive changes or not working toward making positive changes is a personal choice, and if all living things exist in a complex state of flux then common sense suggests that every person is shrinking back from some aspect of life while expanding forth in another. And in most cases, shrinking back is based in fear. In short, a fearful mindset is one that’s afraid to work toward accepting a difficult change. And if fear fastens blinders over one person's eyes so as to believe that a negative change is not taking place while another person turns away with an angry expression on his/her face, life tends to get crazier from moment to moment—unless a misunderstanding is straightened out.
While leafing through old albums, my eyes land on photos of me in fifth grade and sixth grade, and it becomes clear that I was unable to see changes, taking place as one stage of my life moved toward the next—just as I’m uncertain of the ways in which I change, day in and day out, today. In fact, whenever my mom and I looked back at my fifth grade photos, I laughed, because Mom's head always shook in disbelief as she said, “But, Annie—you never looked like that.” My response was always the same. I’d smile, hold her close and say, “Mom, love is as blind as denial.”
On my first day in the little red schoolhouse in March of 1955, I walked into that fifth grade class without a hint of fear about being the new kid on the block. After all, I enjoyed people, and people enjoyed me. And having not yet tasted the bitter, ostracizing power of any social clique, my social standing in the world felt secure. So there was no rhyme or reason to surmise that changing schools would rock ‘my world’.
Reflection suggests that my eyes sparkled with adventure when my new teacher introduced me to the class. If a self-conscious blush colored my cheeks when I left her side and walked down the row leading toward my new desk that was because every pair of eyes in the room had remained glued to me till I sat down.
This is what my classmates saw upon giving me the once over, from head to toe: Smiling blue eyes and long, thick, dark hair, held back by a headband (or pulled up into a pony tail, which would have swung spunkily, back and forth, as I made my way to my desk). I proudly wore a brand new, white, long sleeved sailor ‘over’ blouse with a navy tie and a long string of flapper-like ‘pearls’—because pop beads had been all the rage. I'd also chosen a navy pleated skirt and white bobby socks, which had been rolled down twice to make a cuff before they disappeared into my fashionably scuffed, black and white, saddle shoes—indicating my being—cool.
As to the one physical detail to which I’d remained mercifully unaware until I’ll have entered that van, later in the day—suffice to say that had my new teacher assigned me the task of drawing myself, she might have thought I’d never seen myself in a full length mirror. Upon taking my seat, that morning, I'd no bones to pick with myself. However, that does not mean I'd had no skeletons lurking inside the closet of my mind.
(Now that I’ve entered this fourth stage of my life (What? Impossible!), I wonder what surprises fate may have in store for me, next. I say that because during the first three stages, life's surprises never ceased to blow my mind!)
Once my teacher recaptured the attention of the class, it was my turn to do the checking out, and as luck would have it, Mom and Dad must have timed our move just right. Why? Because the boys in my class were still more interested in snails and puppy dog tails than in girls. That meant I’d have time to connect with the high-spirited, self-confident kids before ‘the popular pre-teen clique’ had been defined. Needless to say, I didn’t consciously figure that out. I just sensed that I’d fit in just fine.
As soon as my belongings were stored neatly inside my desk, curiosity, filling my mind, directed my eyes to rove around the room until I spied two guys, each cute enough to rate a second look. Both were tall, lanky, blue-eyed blonds—one thin, one wiry with mischievous energy to spare.
As I’d chosen and won the attentions of my first boyfriend, Gregory, who’d been left behind at my old school, my mindset assumed to do the choosing, again. And if that doesn’t describe the egocentric nature of
a child’s self-confidence—based in too little experience—then I don’t know what does. On the other hand, Joseph, the one whose eyes twinkled mischievously, will invite Annie to that first couples' party and even more amazing than that—he'll kiss her ... so—
If we assume to know what will take place after any major change occurs then we are asking to be shocked—especially if one person sees a change taking place while another has no clue that change has been on the march, all the while. As each of my stories continues to unfold, you'll get a bird’s eye view of the domino effect that takes place when an innocent mind remains lost inside a hazy maze for decades to come, suggesting why much of what Annie is about to 'see' and 'think' will prove to be a walking-talking contradiction of—reality—based in the fact that much of what she perceives as true and that which is true will not match.
As I’d chosen and won the attentions of my first boyfriend, Gregory, who’d been left behind at my old school, my mindset assumed to do the choosing, again. And if that doesn’t describe the egocentric nature of
a child’s self-confidence—based in too little experience—then I don’t know what does. On the other hand, Joseph, the one whose eyes twinkled mischievously, will invite Annie to that first couples' party and even more amazing than that—he'll kiss her ... so—
If we assume to know what will take place after any major change occurs then we are asking to be shocked—especially if one person sees a change taking place while another has no clue that change has been on the march, all the while. As each of my stories continues to unfold, you'll get a bird’s eye view of the domino effect that takes place when an innocent mind remains lost inside a hazy maze for decades to come, suggesting why much of what Annie is about to 'see' and 'think' will prove to be a walking-talking contradiction of—reality—based in the fact that much of what she perceives as true and that which is true will not match.
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