From the mind of a Celtic Child

So I’ve been spending a lot of time in my own head lately.  I recently felt comfortable reconnecting, so I thought it was time I came back here.  And don’t feel bad, even Joshwa wasn’t immediately privy to some of what’s going on in my head lately.

I struggle with my spirituality; not with my beliefs, but with what I do with them.  I’m passively spiritual – I see everything as a part of the same whole and I see the Divine in all things and all events.  Like last year when we left Chicago and all our plans went pear-shaped.  I believe whole-heartedly that everything that happened, happened for a reason – to teach us lessons in patience (never my strong point) and the kind of people and parents we want to be – by showing us what kind of people and especially parents we don’t want to be.  These were lessons we needed to learn, and lessons we likely wouldn’t have fully appreciated if we had been in another situation.  Mainly because we already work hard to be good people – where you’re doing your best, you tend to be blind to improvements.  And when I say “you”, I mean me in particular.

That being said, I wish I was more actively spiritual.  It was easier in Hattiesburg where I had friends in the faith who were more actively spiritual.  I enjoy the trappings of my faith and I enjoy deep meditation.  I manage the first, though it’s definitely not the same indoors.  But with deep meditation, I tend to be deeply introspective, but with guided meditations, I can look outward.  And I’m really bad at deep meditation on my own sometimes.  Too twitchy.  I’ve worried that it meant I would never again be able to experience the kind of spiritual experiences I’ve had before.  More of those patience lessons.

Another thing that’s been on my mind lately is home.  No, I don’t mean mine and Joshwa’s home – that is wherever we are, and it’s perfect because it’s ours.  I mean my hometown, Hattiesburg, Mississippi.  I love Hattiesburg, and it will always be home to me.  I look forward to the day that we can take our kids there and show them around.  I like going and seeing my parents and friends.  But the thing is, I think I was still trying to convince myself that it was still the same – that I was still the same.  I don’t want to move back, but let’s be real – the reason we were trying to stay here was because it was closer.

I’m still trying to make adjustments in my happiness – in our happiness – to please other people.  It’s something I’ve struggled with most of my life, and you’d think by now that I’d be over it.  But I’m not.  I ask for guidance, and I get it.  Usually in lessons like this last time we were home.  I loved it, don’t mistake.  But even as I was sitting on the pontoon boat, watching the fireworks with my parents, it wasn’t right.  My dad is a racist and has always been.  But I’ve learned that most of my parents friends are, too.  It was a bit eye-opening.  I mean, I’ve always known that I was different from my family – different values, different point-of-view, obviously different religion.  But I don’t think I’ve ever had the lesson so clear as listening to my parents talk about their “friends” (people I’ve never heard them talk about) as if they were life-long buddies; then I listened to these friends spew a level of racism that I’ve never even heard from my father – along with towing the Republican line to the extent of thinking Obama is the source of all evil (heh, couldn’t resist the Charmed reference, forgive me) and that all the troubles our country is having – from the recession to the war to abortion – are Obama and the Democrats fault.

And, seeing as I’m the type that blames politicians, not one side or the other; thinks that disliking someone based solely on something they cannot control; and find general narrow-mindedness tiresome – it bothers me to know that these are the kind of people my parents want to be associated with.  These are the kind of people my parents agree with.  And these are exactly the kind of people I keep at arm’s length.  I’m currently trying to think of a way to talk to my Momma about my religious beliefs.  I have a feeling that when it comes out, most of my family is going to cut themselves off from me.  Now some of them, I don’t care.  But some of them, it hurts to think that they won’t want me around.  Or worse, they’ll feel if they can’t change me that I’ll be a toxic to their lives.  But first, is my Momma.  I have no idea how she’ll react.  It’s something that has been more and more on my mind and my heart.  Of course, I’ve said for the past nearly six years that when we have children I’ll tell her.  Because we’ll raise our children with both our beliefs, so everyone will be finding out anyway.  But I now feel the need to do it quickly, not wait for that eventuality (that we are still trying to reach).

I’ve been holding on to a lot of childish ideals of my family and my hometown – many that I thought I had let go of long ago.  It’s hard, but we’ve already discussed the steps we’ll have to take to be out of here in February, no matter what.  Steps that we’ll be taking starting soon.  Because I can’t live for anyone but myself and my husband.  And our children in the future.  I can’t be the kind of person they want me to be, nor do I think I would be if I could.  So it’s time that I let go of those childish notions – not just tell myself that I have, but actually do it.  And it’s time for me to start trying to be as open and honest with my family as I’m able to be here.

Sorry to leave you with such heavy thoughts.  As always, I wish you the brightest of blessings.  And I wish you all the strength you need to be the person you most want to be.

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