I think I just had an aha moment regarding this friend, Marissa. What I’m experiencing is delayed anger.
She is a hyper-controlling person who thinks she is right and the rest of the world is wrong. In other words, like a cult leader, she believes she is “god,” and she is so sure of it that you buy her shit. I fell for it, when I was backboneless and insecure.
She annoyed me, yes. But the annoyance was a vague feeling that something was wrong. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. Looking back, I see that when she said, “Go right,” I went right. She had a lot of power over me. She looked so together and smart. Even three weeks ago I thought she had it together and had a method to her madness.
But then I went there and lived in her house for a little over 4 days, and all of a sudden I noticed the bunch of stinky bullshit. She lives like a homeless and speaks as if she lived in opulence. Going for what she says, you would never believe that the kids behave like beggars when they see a jar of yogurt. Imagine if I’d had candy!
What I am is angry that a clueless narcissistic bitch tried to run my life once and is still trying (going for how hard she tried to convince me to go back to Christianity). I can’t believe that she is presenting herself as the Virgin Mary of motherhood, when she should be jailed for neglect.
These days I daydream of telling her that she is a domineering abusive mother who has lots of children because that’s her only way of getting friends. I wish I could go back to the times when she looked down on what I was wearing and scream at her, “Who are you to tell me what to wear, you who dress like a homeless.”
Today, I remember how she was nice to me, but she also controlled me, and I hate her for it. I suppose it angers me that that’s exactly how she’s abusing her children. With lots of hugs and kisses she has convinced them that they don’t need food, or new clothes, or a clean house. All they need is mommy and she is “god.”
I wish I could go through her house showing her how dilapidated her house is and tell her that she has no right to bring any more children into this world, because she doesn’t know how to take care of them. I wish I could scream it at her.
My eyes have been opened, and now I see the past with different eyes. I am reprocessing all my past experiences with her and moving them from one compartment of my brain to another. She just went from the slot for past good friendships to the abusive-relationship slot. I will be angry for a while, very angry, no doubt about it.
I don’t know if she already clued in that I had the gloves off during my visit. It is possible that she did clue in after I left. For her sake, I hope she did notice that I am no longer the person I used to be. I am no longer abusable or manipulable. She can forget about me even trying to swallow her shit with a straight face, ever--not for a long time, anyway.
I suppose I should have some compassion on her for being so clueless and misguided. But the time to have compassion on her will come. For now, I need some time to have compassion on me, for having put up with such insanity for so long.
I wonder how many other friendships I need to re-process, even if I am no longer in touch with those people.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Sunday, January 17, 2010
She drives me crazy – Part II
As per my previous post, after coming back from visiting my friend ( I’ll call her Marissa) who lives in the country, I kept analyzing the reasons for my major discomfort. My husband, who as I said has a little trouble being around her for too long, says that I need to stop torturing myself for having been disagreeable. He says I just have to be who I am and stop tormenting myself over it.
Realistically speaking, I don’t think it is humanly possible for me to sit around seeing the stuff I saw and feeling the stuff I felt and say nothing. It would be way too hard.
But I’d better be more specific. During the last few days, I’ve been analyzing her behaviour, trying to figure out why she annoys me so much.
This woman is a psychologist who stopped working in the field because—I think—she had trouble with authority. As for the rest of her background, as far as I know she comes from a middle class family with good manners and a good financial situation.
But she acts really weirdly. For instance, she wears clothes that don’t match, decorates horribly, and seems to know nothing regarding all things house and good manners. At some point she showed me, proudly, an old, terrible, wrinkled table runner that she bought at the thrift shop. Worse yet, she doesn’t use it to decorate the table, she uses it as tablecloth. That is, at meal times, she spreads the horrible thing on the table, and removes it after. Maybe I’m the crazy one, but I use runners as decoration. At meal times I use a tablecloth. Also, she doesn’t use napkins at the table. For every meal, I had to go to the bathroom to get toilet paper, so I could wipe my fingers.
Another disturbing incident happened when she got me to teach her children to make an ethnic hot beverage from my country, and I needed a measuring cup. She only has one, and I’d seen it in the washroom. So, in the middle of teaching the kids, and after having asked for the cup a couple of times, I had to go to the washroom myself to get the measuring cup, so I could continue with my recipe. (Sometimes I think it possible that she is insane.)
All this is upsetting me because, when we were single, I was very insecure. New in Canada, I thought she knew better and let her boss me around and criticize me, as if I was always wrong and she was right.
Twelve years later, I have developed a much healthier self-esteem, have learned things about life, like decorating, cooking, baking, sewing, and etiquette, and I can see now that she is as ignorant as they come. She knows nothing. She is clueless. (Isn’t that what happens to children when they grow up and discover that their parents don’t know everything after all?)
Every time I remember that five years ago she came to my beautiful home and tried to redecorate it, I get really angry. But, angry at who? At myself, perhaps, for having trusted her judgment. I should have stood up for myself, but I didn’t.
Going back to the present, I now finally realize what her problem is. It is easy to see where her parents screwed up when you see her dealing with her own children. For instance, her little girl wears, say, a shinny dressy outfit to the mall, because she wants to. That’s enough for mommy, that the little girl wants to. It hasn’t occurred to her that her role in life is to guide her daughter though life, to help her fit in. No. Her role in life is to (1) praise everything her daughter does, (2) let her do whatever she wants—in areas where mommy doesn’t care, (3) teach her to care very much about other people’s opinions, and (4) kiss, her, hug her, etc, overly so.
It may sound good on paper, but in practice it produces horrible results, as exemplified by how difficult it is to tolerate Marissa, by many accounts.
Marissa is a sucker for praise. She is always asking if you like whatever she does, wears, cooks, etc. And you must praise her, because if you don’t, she’ll keep asking what she did wrong, how she can improve, and—not on those words but—how can she possibly get you to praise her. In other words, she behaves like a four year old.
The four days I was at her house, among other things, she sang aloud so I could hear her (she is an amateur singer, BTW), and she fished for compliments continually. Come on, everybody knows she sings well. Do we need to tell her 24 hours a day?
She showed me all the schoolwork that her homeschooled kids have produced for years, and I had to pretend to love the stuff. It was good stuff, but why submit me to such torture?
She showed me the dress collection of her daughter, from babyhood to today (six years). I was expected to praise each piece of shit, because if I didn’t, she would start asking what was wrong with the dresses.
Personally, I think it is all about balance. Parents should give their children some room to breathe regarding choices, but some guidance should be offered. For instance, shinny dresses are for special occasions, to the mall you wear something comfy, like jeans.
Also, teach your kids to be who they are, sure. Tell them to use their instinct and their taste. Why not? But also be sure to let them know that if they’re going to be different from the “pack,” they shouldn’t expect a standing ovation. Teach your kids that being different has consequences and that, if they’re going to be different, they should be prepared to be bullied, laughed at, or at the very least, not praised by everyone and sundry.
Teach your kids that people are too busy living their own lives. They don’t have time to (1) be praising everything you do, or (2) to care at all. Praise-thirsty people can get on every one’s nerves. Marissa does.
I strongly believe her problem is that her parents didn’t guide her at all and praised everything she did. The end result is a person who doesn’t know how to do anything right but expects you to praise everything she does.
On this trip, for the first time in my life, I expressed my disagreement. I said no many times. It is too bad that there being so many people in this world, it falls on my shoulders to let that narcissist know that no, she isn’t perfect, not by a long shot. Shame on her parents for letting her think she is. (Actually, I have it in good authority that her husband is just hanging on for dear life, and that he and I agree on almost everything regarding his wife’s behaviour.)
One disagreement was about her three year old who had never, according to her, stayed with anyone but mom or dad. When she asked me if I was willing to stay with him, I said, “Sure, but don’t make a big deal out of it. Just go, OK?”
“But he needs to know that I won’t be home.”
“No he doesn’t.”
“Yes, he does.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
Of course, I wasn’t saying, “Don’t say bye to him.” I was saying “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
She goes, “Honey, mommy and daddy are leaving, OK? Are you going to be fine with L----? Mommy and daddy are coming soon honey. Don’t worry about it… blah, blah, blah.”
And she went on, and on, and on until he actually turned around and walked away. It was almost as if she were saying, “I am staying long enough for you to cry, because mommy needs to know that you can’t live without her.”
I felt like slapping her. But, the kid chose to tearlessly stay with me, anyway. That I found hard to believe. But it did happen.
Yes, I was disagreeable. Yes, I spoke my mind. Yes, perhaps I shouldn’t have. But I am thinking that I shouldn’t worry too much. Maybe she’ll just get tired of not being praised by me and will never call me again. I won’t be too broken hearted.
Anyway, if you made it to this last line, I thank you with all my heart. Thank you for reading this long post. Talk about bitching!
Realistically speaking, I don’t think it is humanly possible for me to sit around seeing the stuff I saw and feeling the stuff I felt and say nothing. It would be way too hard.
But I’d better be more specific. During the last few days, I’ve been analyzing her behaviour, trying to figure out why she annoys me so much.
This woman is a psychologist who stopped working in the field because—I think—she had trouble with authority. As for the rest of her background, as far as I know she comes from a middle class family with good manners and a good financial situation.
But she acts really weirdly. For instance, she wears clothes that don’t match, decorates horribly, and seems to know nothing regarding all things house and good manners. At some point she showed me, proudly, an old, terrible, wrinkled table runner that she bought at the thrift shop. Worse yet, she doesn’t use it to decorate the table, she uses it as tablecloth. That is, at meal times, she spreads the horrible thing on the table, and removes it after. Maybe I’m the crazy one, but I use runners as decoration. At meal times I use a tablecloth. Also, she doesn’t use napkins at the table. For every meal, I had to go to the bathroom to get toilet paper, so I could wipe my fingers.
Another disturbing incident happened when she got me to teach her children to make an ethnic hot beverage from my country, and I needed a measuring cup. She only has one, and I’d seen it in the washroom. So, in the middle of teaching the kids, and after having asked for the cup a couple of times, I had to go to the washroom myself to get the measuring cup, so I could continue with my recipe. (Sometimes I think it possible that she is insane.)
All this is upsetting me because, when we were single, I was very insecure. New in Canada, I thought she knew better and let her boss me around and criticize me, as if I was always wrong and she was right.
Twelve years later, I have developed a much healthier self-esteem, have learned things about life, like decorating, cooking, baking, sewing, and etiquette, and I can see now that she is as ignorant as they come. She knows nothing. She is clueless. (Isn’t that what happens to children when they grow up and discover that their parents don’t know everything after all?)
Every time I remember that five years ago she came to my beautiful home and tried to redecorate it, I get really angry. But, angry at who? At myself, perhaps, for having trusted her judgment. I should have stood up for myself, but I didn’t.
Going back to the present, I now finally realize what her problem is. It is easy to see where her parents screwed up when you see her dealing with her own children. For instance, her little girl wears, say, a shinny dressy outfit to the mall, because she wants to. That’s enough for mommy, that the little girl wants to. It hasn’t occurred to her that her role in life is to guide her daughter though life, to help her fit in. No. Her role in life is to (1) praise everything her daughter does, (2) let her do whatever she wants—in areas where mommy doesn’t care, (3) teach her to care very much about other people’s opinions, and (4) kiss, her, hug her, etc, overly so.
It may sound good on paper, but in practice it produces horrible results, as exemplified by how difficult it is to tolerate Marissa, by many accounts.
Marissa is a sucker for praise. She is always asking if you like whatever she does, wears, cooks, etc. And you must praise her, because if you don’t, she’ll keep asking what she did wrong, how she can improve, and—not on those words but—how can she possibly get you to praise her. In other words, she behaves like a four year old.
The four days I was at her house, among other things, she sang aloud so I could hear her (she is an amateur singer, BTW), and she fished for compliments continually. Come on, everybody knows she sings well. Do we need to tell her 24 hours a day?
She showed me all the schoolwork that her homeschooled kids have produced for years, and I had to pretend to love the stuff. It was good stuff, but why submit me to such torture?
She showed me the dress collection of her daughter, from babyhood to today (six years). I was expected to praise each piece of shit, because if I didn’t, she would start asking what was wrong with the dresses.
Personally, I think it is all about balance. Parents should give their children some room to breathe regarding choices, but some guidance should be offered. For instance, shinny dresses are for special occasions, to the mall you wear something comfy, like jeans.
Also, teach your kids to be who they are, sure. Tell them to use their instinct and their taste. Why not? But also be sure to let them know that if they’re going to be different from the “pack,” they shouldn’t expect a standing ovation. Teach your kids that being different has consequences and that, if they’re going to be different, they should be prepared to be bullied, laughed at, or at the very least, not praised by everyone and sundry.
Teach your kids that people are too busy living their own lives. They don’t have time to (1) be praising everything you do, or (2) to care at all. Praise-thirsty people can get on every one’s nerves. Marissa does.
I strongly believe her problem is that her parents didn’t guide her at all and praised everything she did. The end result is a person who doesn’t know how to do anything right but expects you to praise everything she does.
On this trip, for the first time in my life, I expressed my disagreement. I said no many times. It is too bad that there being so many people in this world, it falls on my shoulders to let that narcissist know that no, she isn’t perfect, not by a long shot. Shame on her parents for letting her think she is. (Actually, I have it in good authority that her husband is just hanging on for dear life, and that he and I agree on almost everything regarding his wife’s behaviour.)
One disagreement was about her three year old who had never, according to her, stayed with anyone but mom or dad. When she asked me if I was willing to stay with him, I said, “Sure, but don’t make a big deal out of it. Just go, OK?”
“But he needs to know that I won’t be home.”
“No he doesn’t.”
“Yes, he does.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
Of course, I wasn’t saying, “Don’t say bye to him.” I was saying “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
She goes, “Honey, mommy and daddy are leaving, OK? Are you going to be fine with L----? Mommy and daddy are coming soon honey. Don’t worry about it… blah, blah, blah.”
And she went on, and on, and on until he actually turned around and walked away. It was almost as if she were saying, “I am staying long enough for you to cry, because mommy needs to know that you can’t live without her.”
I felt like slapping her. But, the kid chose to tearlessly stay with me, anyway. That I found hard to believe. But it did happen.
Yes, I was disagreeable. Yes, I spoke my mind. Yes, perhaps I shouldn’t have. But I am thinking that I shouldn’t worry too much. Maybe she’ll just get tired of not being praised by me and will never call me again. I won’t be too broken hearted.
Anyway, if you made it to this last line, I thank you with all my heart. Thank you for reading this long post. Talk about bitching!
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
She drives me crazy!
I’ve come back from my trip feeling totally weird. This friend of mine is considered by most highly annoying. Even my husband gets quite irritated when she is around. But she is a good person and has always been there for me when I have needed her. She puts up with me better than my relatives. She has four children 11 and under, she is a home schooler, and going by what I could see, she is driving her husband up the wall.
She is unorthodox in that she has a unique way of doing things, but on the other hand, she is afraid of what others are going to say. In other words, she acts weirdly and annoys everybody, but she's clueless. In her mind, she is portraying the image of a perfect wife and mother, and being admired by all.
We had a serious disagreement after church on Sunday.
We came to church and she just threw her jacket on the pew, when she could have hung it on the hallway. I took it and went outside to hang it. Then, she took her boots off, and her six-year-old daughter moved from two places away, by walking on the pew, to her arms, to be cuddled. Since we were singing standing up, she sat the girl (taller than most six year olds) on the back of the pew in front of us.
I looked around and people were looking, bewildered. Most folks teach their children to behave in church, so to me what she was doing was highly unusual. Then her little guy started acting out, and daddy on the opposite side of the pew, handed him to her.
He continued to be difficult and at some point, she run out of the sanctuary, barefoot, to calm down her three year old. She did that two more times after that.
At some point during the service, she had insisted that her eldest put away his Garfield comic book. He refused.
When we got home, she scolded him, for having disobeyed her. At that point, I couldn’t shut up. I said, “He was quietly reading his book, behaving perfectly well, while his sister was walking on the pew and acting out, and you’re scolding him? People were looking at us, bewildered.”
She went on to insist that there was nothing wrong with the girl standing on the pew or sitting on the pew’s back. I was wrong. People weren’t scandalized.
I feel awful for having argued with my hostess. Awful.
But the arguing didn’t stop there. I had been there since Thursday and had seen enough. Her priorities don’t include feeding her children. Sometimes, it is 11 am and the kids haven’t had anything to eat. Since I had to eat, I had to share what I made for me. I gave them yogurt, chopped fruit, sliced sausage and what not. In fact, the day I left, the little one said, “I like ---. She gives me yogurt.”
We were talking about traveling when she said to prefer going out with the children alone, without her husband. I, stupidly, jumped off my seat and blurted. “Oh, my gosh, don’t do that. You’ll starve the children to death.” That didn’t go well, since she's not only careless, but she's also a terrible cook.
I also said later that she should send me the children so I can take them to the Olympics. “No, not you, only the children. I’ll send them home overweight.”
The kids and I got along great, and I had great conversations with her husband, who is also my friend. We all met when we were single, a lifetime ago.
For what I gathered, she has trouble finding people to visit her and to stay with when she comes into town. She says the children drive everyone crazy. She couldn’t believe they didn’t drive me nuts. But I think it isn’t the kids who make people climb the walls, it’s her.
She believes in “communication skills.” So she is constantly “perception checking.” Every moment she is with you, she wants to know if she offended you, if you really want to, say, go out, or whatever. But she doesn’t ask you once, she asks again and again. “Are you sure?” “Is it really OK to leave the children with you for a few minutes?” “Is no problem, is it?”
After the third or fourth time, I get quite irritated, and showing annoyance say, “Why wouldn’t I want to stay with the children?”
The weird thing is that up till the last second, she kept saying how glad she was that I came, how much the children liked me, and how much she’d like for me to come see them again soon. She even wanted us to figure out which room my husband and I could use when we come together, this winter preferably.
Why would she want somebody grumpy like me to come visit? Why isn’t she offended by my nasty retorts and lack of patience? Why does she want to have a visitor who constantly disagrees with her and sides with her weary husband?
Sometimes I daydream that I’m telling her all these things. Or at least, I’d like to know why she wants to have such a disagreeable friend. I truly don’t get it.
I know I came with presents for the kids and they loved me for it, but it was cheap stuff. Nothing to write home about. I am also trying to convince her to stop trying so hard to be perfect. I say things like, "Don't be so hard on yourself. There are no perfect parents. No matter what you do, you'll always make mistakes." Or, "The purpose of life is to be happy, not to be perfect."
I just feel that I showed her in too many ways, nice and nasty, how much I disagree with the way she goes about life. And I don't like that. I believe in accepting people as they are, not in trying to change them. Basically, I feel that my co-dependency flared up, and I don't like it.
Today, I’m puzzled. On one hand, I am glad I went and enjoyed her lovely kids. Great kids. I loved feeding them and giving them attention and being useful. But I’m not sure that I should go back. I feel bruised and traumatized. Shouldn’t she feel the same way?
She is unorthodox in that she has a unique way of doing things, but on the other hand, she is afraid of what others are going to say. In other words, she acts weirdly and annoys everybody, but she's clueless. In her mind, she is portraying the image of a perfect wife and mother, and being admired by all.
We had a serious disagreement after church on Sunday.
We came to church and she just threw her jacket on the pew, when she could have hung it on the hallway. I took it and went outside to hang it. Then, she took her boots off, and her six-year-old daughter moved from two places away, by walking on the pew, to her arms, to be cuddled. Since we were singing standing up, she sat the girl (taller than most six year olds) on the back of the pew in front of us.
I looked around and people were looking, bewildered. Most folks teach their children to behave in church, so to me what she was doing was highly unusual. Then her little guy started acting out, and daddy on the opposite side of the pew, handed him to her.
He continued to be difficult and at some point, she run out of the sanctuary, barefoot, to calm down her three year old. She did that two more times after that.
At some point during the service, she had insisted that her eldest put away his Garfield comic book. He refused.
When we got home, she scolded him, for having disobeyed her. At that point, I couldn’t shut up. I said, “He was quietly reading his book, behaving perfectly well, while his sister was walking on the pew and acting out, and you’re scolding him? People were looking at us, bewildered.”
She went on to insist that there was nothing wrong with the girl standing on the pew or sitting on the pew’s back. I was wrong. People weren’t scandalized.
I feel awful for having argued with my hostess. Awful.
But the arguing didn’t stop there. I had been there since Thursday and had seen enough. Her priorities don’t include feeding her children. Sometimes, it is 11 am and the kids haven’t had anything to eat. Since I had to eat, I had to share what I made for me. I gave them yogurt, chopped fruit, sliced sausage and what not. In fact, the day I left, the little one said, “I like ---. She gives me yogurt.”
We were talking about traveling when she said to prefer going out with the children alone, without her husband. I, stupidly, jumped off my seat and blurted. “Oh, my gosh, don’t do that. You’ll starve the children to death.” That didn’t go well, since she's not only careless, but she's also a terrible cook.
I also said later that she should send me the children so I can take them to the Olympics. “No, not you, only the children. I’ll send them home overweight.”
The kids and I got along great, and I had great conversations with her husband, who is also my friend. We all met when we were single, a lifetime ago.
For what I gathered, she has trouble finding people to visit her and to stay with when she comes into town. She says the children drive everyone crazy. She couldn’t believe they didn’t drive me nuts. But I think it isn’t the kids who make people climb the walls, it’s her.
She believes in “communication skills.” So she is constantly “perception checking.” Every moment she is with you, she wants to know if she offended you, if you really want to, say, go out, or whatever. But she doesn’t ask you once, she asks again and again. “Are you sure?” “Is it really OK to leave the children with you for a few minutes?” “Is no problem, is it?”
After the third or fourth time, I get quite irritated, and showing annoyance say, “Why wouldn’t I want to stay with the children?”
The weird thing is that up till the last second, she kept saying how glad she was that I came, how much the children liked me, and how much she’d like for me to come see them again soon. She even wanted us to figure out which room my husband and I could use when we come together, this winter preferably.
Why would she want somebody grumpy like me to come visit? Why isn’t she offended by my nasty retorts and lack of patience? Why does she want to have a visitor who constantly disagrees with her and sides with her weary husband?
Sometimes I daydream that I’m telling her all these things. Or at least, I’d like to know why she wants to have such a disagreeable friend. I truly don’t get it.
I know I came with presents for the kids and they loved me for it, but it was cheap stuff. Nothing to write home about. I am also trying to convince her to stop trying so hard to be perfect. I say things like, "Don't be so hard on yourself. There are no perfect parents. No matter what you do, you'll always make mistakes." Or, "The purpose of life is to be happy, not to be perfect."
I just feel that I showed her in too many ways, nice and nasty, how much I disagree with the way she goes about life. And I don't like that. I believe in accepting people as they are, not in trying to change them. Basically, I feel that my co-dependency flared up, and I don't like it.
Today, I’m puzzled. On one hand, I am glad I went and enjoyed her lovely kids. Great kids. I loved feeding them and giving them attention and being useful. But I’m not sure that I should go back. I feel bruised and traumatized. Shouldn’t she feel the same way?
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Psychic Powers?
A fellow anonymous blogger just posted a picture of his. I was shocked when I saw it because I had a mental image of the guy, and it was scarily similar to the one I had in my mind.
I suppose that somewhere in me there is a psychic gift of some sort, which to me doesn’t mean that there is a god. It just means that we are all in some fashion connected and that our vibes sometimes cross each others’.
As psychics go, if I have a touch of that, it is minimal. I am unable to predict the future or to even know in advance who’s calling when the phone rings. But my intuition is definitely in “tune” in certain areas.
I have a sister with whom we have almost the same thoughts. We don’t even like each other, but our DNA’s must be almost identical. We have the same diseases and very similar physical features. Now that she has a baby, I yearn to see the baby, but not wanting to become a pest, I try not to walk the three blocks to her house more than once a week.
However, on days when I’m planning on calling her, she often calls first. One day, I was desperately wanting to see the baby and had even changed and showered so I could go there, when she rang the bell.
I can’t understand why I have this connection with my least favourite sister, and I’m pretty sure the feeling is mutual. I also can’t understand why I love her baby so much, but it is hard not to love babies, right? They’re all so adorable. (Or maybe it is that half his DNA is the same as mine.)
I also have the “gift” of getting a psychological x-ray of people when I meet them. I can usually tell immediately if they’re shallow, liars, have a low self-esteem, or are in some way obnoxious.
I have always considered this a curse, because I see who they really are and tend to dislike them right off the bat. Often, I have refused to hear my inner voice telling me these things about people, and I now think it was a mistake.
I now believe that, ideally, I should find something to like in them, in spite of being sure of their shortcomings. After all, who of us is perfect?
I need to learn that even liars and bullies are people with something in them worthy of my respect. But, honestly, I’m not sure I have what it takes to do that. Any ideas?
Do you have any “powers” that can be loosely categorized as psychic?
I suppose that somewhere in me there is a psychic gift of some sort, which to me doesn’t mean that there is a god. It just means that we are all in some fashion connected and that our vibes sometimes cross each others’.
As psychics go, if I have a touch of that, it is minimal. I am unable to predict the future or to even know in advance who’s calling when the phone rings. But my intuition is definitely in “tune” in certain areas.
I have a sister with whom we have almost the same thoughts. We don’t even like each other, but our DNA’s must be almost identical. We have the same diseases and very similar physical features. Now that she has a baby, I yearn to see the baby, but not wanting to become a pest, I try not to walk the three blocks to her house more than once a week.
However, on days when I’m planning on calling her, she often calls first. One day, I was desperately wanting to see the baby and had even changed and showered so I could go there, when she rang the bell.
I can’t understand why I have this connection with my least favourite sister, and I’m pretty sure the feeling is mutual. I also can’t understand why I love her baby so much, but it is hard not to love babies, right? They’re all so adorable. (Or maybe it is that half his DNA is the same as mine.)
I also have the “gift” of getting a psychological x-ray of people when I meet them. I can usually tell immediately if they’re shallow, liars, have a low self-esteem, or are in some way obnoxious.
I have always considered this a curse, because I see who they really are and tend to dislike them right off the bat. Often, I have refused to hear my inner voice telling me these things about people, and I now think it was a mistake.
I now believe that, ideally, I should find something to like in them, in spite of being sure of their shortcomings. After all, who of us is perfect?
I need to learn that even liars and bullies are people with something in them worthy of my respect. But, honestly, I’m not sure I have what it takes to do that. Any ideas?
Do you have any “powers” that can be loosely categorized as psychic?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
