Lost And Found Freedom Seeker

It really is no surprise that I was found. I’m not very good at hiding. In fact, I was always the first one found during endless rounds of the game we loved so much as children; playing well into the night to distract us from the blistering July heat smothering us with rancid summer boredom. Not that I was really trying hard to conceal myself, like when I was a kid. Part of me knew I would have to face the music eventually and just wanted this updated adult version of the beloved classic over with already.

When I set off on this haphazard trek in search of my freedom, I had no idea what would be in store for me along the way. I knew there were huge risks involved when it came to choosing the path less traveled, but I was too naive to see just how dangerous those risks really were. My body and mind were that of the adult I had recently discovered I had become, but my soul was still that of a child- unaware and unassuming. Wisdom was still such a long ways off for my seventeen years; seemingly more of an old wive’s tale, passed down from one generation to the next, to ease the burdening fears people have about aging past their youthful prime.

I always knew something was different about me. I wasn’t cut from the same cloth as the others were where I came from. Those people were wholly satisfied with their cookie cutter suburbia and the pretentious societal box requirements – instilled upon us the very moment we took our first breath after the cord was cut. They thrived in this realm of standardized constringency and predicated stringencies. I wasn’t. I couldn’t. No matter how hard I worked to try, or, sometimes even not to try, I could not find happiness, belonging, or purpose within the confines of this imperiously scripted life.

freedom-2053281_1920

So off I went, set to rebel against the system, The Man, the middle-class suburban mindset, and anything else which forced conformity while promoting monetary dependence and materialism. It was my mission not be another Suzy Homemaker who had gone to some Big Ten university to establish a respected career and, immediately following, married a man who only focuses on growing investments and expenditures which add to his precious nest egg, coupled with golf getaways and strip clubs on the sly. There would be no dreaming of minivans, book clubs, or being the perfect Soccer mom with the perfect, but boring, life. Those were nightmares to me. Exactly what I was running away and hiding from. My dreams, I believed, would always be about adventure, emotional connections, and tapping into the well of passion within my fiery soul. About discovering my purpose, my sexuality, and who I was from one day to the next. About a life governed by my desires and regulated by my experiences. Freedom. Resistance. Feeling alive.

I wanted to get married and have kids, still, but on my own terms. Without the pressure to adhere to the strictly structured plan society had created simply to define one’s worth. I didn’t want to live by the book or be conventional in any shape or form because then THEY would win.

For a long time, I stuck to my guns and traveled anywhere that would lead me far from the life expected of me. I crashed on various people’s couches, worked jobs that would only sustain my most basic of needs, and took risks that reflected anything but the Good Girl image my childhood peers had strived to maintain. I had no rules, no boundaries, and no desire to be defined by the tenuous labels of someone else’s standards. There was no stopping me. Drugs, drinking and partying with other freedom-seeking souls trying to escape the democracy we never asked to join fueled my mission, and a fresh tattoo coupled with alternative piercings were displayed like a scarlet letter to show the world I would not live in compliance.  

I lived on the edge, defying everything that had been drilled into my existence from the moment I began to develop in utero. Anything to escape the nightmares dreams of mainstream suburbia haunted me with.

Somehow, though, they found me. Deep down I knew I couldn’t run from those phantasmal ideals forever. I came to realize through the course of my rebellion that conformity is more omnipotent than individualization and true freedom. My escape was futile and all in vain at the end of the road. It was impossible to live freely outside the constraints of the societal structure without feeling the insufferable weight of financial dependency once children and marriage became part of the equation. Society is an altruistic prison in which humans entombed themselves within, long ago. There is no liberation from it. Not when parenthood comes into play because everything changes when you realize you’ve been tasked with the responsibility of raising the next generation of freedom seekers and emulators.

I never expected my nightmares to come full circle the way they have. Never did I imagine that the one thing I spent years hiding from would become the one thing I wished I could have, but here I am. I feel like the world’s biggest hypocrite for it, too.

Yet, I also feel strangely empowered, as I have gained wisdom and understanding which most others will never be privileged enough to sample a taste of. Things I can use, not to fight against the system as ineffectively as my youthful naivety set out to do, but fight to better the system from within so my children don’t have to rebel against the miscarriages of justice which keep us all imprisoned by the labels of a cookie cutter society. And I cannot do it without dreaming of the life that I never wanted to live because I have no choice but to play the game necessary to put me in the position to change the rules once and for all.emancipate-1779132_1920

Your “Secret Subject” is: Oh no, they found you. What do you do?

It was submitted by: http://dinoheromommy.com/

Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts.  Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. See you there:

Baking In A Tornado 

Dinosaur Superhero Mommy 

Spatulas on Parade 

The Diary of an Alzheimer’s Caregiver 

The Lieber Family Blog 

The Bergham Chronicles 

Never Ever Give Up Hope 

Simply Shannon  

Confessions of a part time working mom  

Southern Belle Charm 

Climaxed

 

Baggage Restrictions On Easy Street

image

This post is part of a Blog Challenge called Secret Subject Swap. Details can be found at the end. My “Secret Subject” was:
May is National Recommitment Month. Is there something in your past that you’ve started and never finished? Why did you quit? Is it something you can recommit yourself to?

In honor of Sigmund Freud’s birthday today, I took a psychoanalytic approach to my subject instead. Enjoy!

People are quitters by nature. Very few have the gumption to hold out and see something through to the finish, especially if they hit a snag, snare, or pothole along the way – and that is perfectly okay.

We are creatures of developmental comforts. Complex simplicity. Habitual pursuits. As individuals, and as the whole of society, we strive continuously to make our lives easier to endure within the confines of our systematic culture. Humans constantly complicate things further with a frenzy of chaos – all done to find the most effortless way to live, as of yet. Just the same as humans have done since the dawning of their time.

It is true of me, despite my soul’s contradicting desire to break free and roam the universe without limit. I, too, at some point since my birth, have tentatively resigned myself to the fact that I want to take the easy way in life as much as the next person. The path of least resistance has always been the most tempting, even if the way to Easy Street was found on the road less traveled, (because I never said I wanted to travel with everyone else; I said, ‘like’).

A lone bird may not flock with the other birds of a feather, but the instinct to migrate remains. There’s no point in fighting the urge. When the time comes to head to warmer climates, the lone bird still drops everything and takes flight. No questions asked. That same instinct to take flight when I feel the calling for a more desirable comfort- with no regard to my current commitments, is in me. It is in all of us, to some degree or another; a distinguishing trait of nature found in most living creatures.

The broken commitments of my past migrations are just as responsible for where I stand today, as the ones kept and seen through. I am comprised of every admitted failure, called timeout, plea for mercy, and tossing in of the towel I have made up to this point. Every change of direction and conscious decision to walk away, too. If I change the outcome of any one of my past convictions, it would change who I was to become over time… potentially causing me to develop into an entirely different woman all together.

That, in itself, is a very tantalizing and alluring thought. Why? Because I instantly thought of having myself a life far easier and steadier on course than the one I have right now. My mind instinctively presumed that finishing any commitment I neglected to follow through with would produce a better life. Yet there is no certainty it would work out so. No guarantees. Just probability.

Would I like to see what the future would’ve had in store if I had stuck out that relationship with my first love when we were too young to understand compromise? Of course. Would I want to go back in time and find the motivation to finish nursing school and walk away from my rebellious overdrive? Hell yeah! Would I desire a second chance at the great job I lost out of sheer immaturity, to prove my sincere loyalty to the position? Without a doubt.

The wise, old soul, hidden within, tells me that enduring those struggles would have paved my way towards Easy Street, undoubtedly. Life would have turned out a little simpler, more predictable, and provide greater comforts than the road I am currently traveling down – in the moment of completion. But would finishing those past failed commitments prevented life from challenging me at all farther down the way? Nope. Not at all.

Had those birds stuck around to finish what they started when the time to migrate arrived, whether they planned to follow the group or not, they very well might have been signing their own death warrants. Perfecting it’s nest or finding the ripest berry could leave them victim of the first freeze or a patient predator. The instinctual urge to move along to the next best thing, leaving prior commitments hanging in the balance, whispers to you with great purpose. Rationalizing the reasoning of Karma is preposterously unfeasible.

Listen to the desires of your soul and follow your heart wherever it may lead, as nature intended by your fate. Don’t look back on that which you left unfinished with guilt or shame, for it was what made you who you are today. Seek out new beginnings, instead. If something is calling you back to it, with the purest of intentions for the betterment of yourself, then start with a fresh slate – you are no longer the same person who made the original commitment.

The idea of recommital seems like another way for our psyche to carry the weight of the past into the future. If you take a peek, you will see that I’ve already surpassed my carry-on luggage allowance and left no room in the cargo deck for anyone else’s on this flight. Another suitcase might just crash this flight on The Curse Of Life airline.

image

This week 13 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts.

Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts.  Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. See you there:
Baking In A Tornado             
Southern Belle Charm                      
Not That Sarah Michelle            
Spatulas on Parade                    
The Bergham Chronicles                    
The Diary of an Alzheimer’s Caregiver Dinosaur Superhero Mommy            
My Brain on Kids                            
The Lieber Family Blog                  
Never Ever Give Up Hope                
Climaxed                                      
Confessions of a part time working mom