You are what you tweet!

I am the epitome of a reformed anti-networking, non blogging, google hating twenty something. Clinging to my literary nature, I stood firmly defiant to the dawn of the Internet era, as it latched onto my generation at the tail end of our youths. My children, on the other hand, know no other way to define mystery words outside the world of Wikepedia and Bing search engines. Speaking solely for myself, well...here I am...a daily blogger. Almost with a severe urgency to talk to, well...mainly me at this point in my green blogging career. Nonetheless, I have built a relationship, a love affair of sorts, with my networking capabilities. I am somewhere in the great continuum of fiber optic and high speed connections, not quite Twittering, venturing into the blogs of others, but an avid Facebook guru.

Although, not yet finding it necessary to let my friends and family know what exactly I am doing on a moment to moment basis, I have found it very beneficial, amusing at times, to peer onto the wall of those in my box of somebodies'. I find it ingenious, that by one small blurb, I can evoke emotion and support, sometimes anger and contest, from those who are called my "friends". These are the people that made a conscious decision to let me in on their daily buzz, as I mutually agreed for them to browse my photo albums and join my cause. So what if I have 79 more friends than Bil...it's not a competition, but a superb idea of networking! I feel connected and involved...oh and I never miss a birthday. I get to be so much cooler online! YAY...

But not all of our fellow facebookians make that vital connection between the Internet and the real world. Contrary to popular belief, there is a continuous imprint of everything you do on the Internet. Someone is always watching the goings on of the cyber world, and they carefully monitor and elicit needed information. Not to be limited to "big brother", spectators could be anyone of interest... your employer, your school, your parents, an uninvited admirer, your ex wife's lawyer. Hello! It's public information people. If you write it...and you post it...you own it. It's all fun and networking until you throw out a racial slur, evoke a threat against others, or your teenage daughter gets knocked up. Freedom of speech, yes, but read the fine print prior to checking the "I agree to the terms and conditions" box. One of which points out that what you say here, doesn't stay here! Oh! and one of your grand dad's photos you uploaded...yah, that is fair game to be cropped and used to illustrate the ad at the left side of your screen, on how to turn your profile picture into a farm animal. What? Seriously? I signed up for this?

More importantly, what you say, how you relate and react to others...it all speaks in volumes of your character as a human being. If you incite violence, or pose threats...I can safely assume there are some underlying anger issues. Fairly enough, I will have to spend some time with your FB profile prior to letting you spend the evening with my daughter. If you throw out a string of hatred driven "what I am doing's"...not so sure you should be holding a position to pass judgement on others. And if you have that much free time at work to mobile facebook me, make sure the passengers are not aware of your inattention to the rail your driving. Clearly, the time lines will match up showing your final score on BeJewelled,moments before you derailed and killed a of couple of people. Sort of defenseless at this point...but, hey...thanks for Tweeting or I may have missed you on the six o'clock news! Not limited to employers, but admissions experts and psychologists as well, browsing their interest's facebook page to get a more intimate look at who they are letting into their offices as a prospected client. Don't be naive to ignore the obvious. If people with good intentions are peeking in on you...you can bet the farm that those who have other intentions are watching you closely as well.

It could very well come back to clamp it's unerasable jaw down on your credibility...maybe something like karma's dysfunctional cousin from your step father's side. You could lose your scholarship, your dignity, your cushy lifestyle arrangements, even break the law... all in the time it takes you to spout off to let anyone willing to listen see the intimate details that are... well...you. Facebook let's it all come out! I get to show you all what Michael Jackson song I would be, the Harry Potter character I should have been, and what Transformer I could spontaneously morph into. You can all take quizzes to see how well you know me as I tend to my farm of digitally enhanced animals. I can send gifts without going for postage, and throw food at you...no seriously...what is up with that? I can let everyone know just how neat I am.

Don't misconstrue...I am not a hater. I love the great FB for very specific reasons. Like many before me, the extremely well liked natives to facebook with 357 friends, I have the opportunity to find people where I lost them, and never let go of those that I've grown accustomed to. It does offer others the opportunity to know me, and see me, which helps my accountability on a deeper level. This connection also does for me, what I've needed...that genuine sense of caring for others...that taking me out of me. I find more reasons to pray for people, and kinder ways to connect with strangers. I can do that there, and it is wonderful. I am just thankful, for today, that I know how to work my security settings, keeping out the riffraff. More importantly, I am thankful that I think before I tweet.

No, really...I'm fine.

It is no surprise to me that people succumb to the turmoil that they do. In a society founded on strength, and the theological ideal of invincibility, it is no wonder our psychiatric population is brimming at their magnetic doors. For centuries, major contributors have lacked the safeguards, the true safeguards, for their victims. High risk careers, less fortunate populations, the exposed and exploited...these are the true victims. The strength of such people holds true in history as a celebrated and coveted trait. Those who protect and serve, those men and women in the front lines of war. Individuals playing God, pushing sand against the inevitable hands of the one who gave and now comes to take away. Others victimized and exposed to such doings, lacking the capacity to understand, let alone, sort through. And again, who is celebrated? The nurse that can walk away from a dead infant, and continue about the day. The soldier that returns from war, and falls back into place, at home, unscathed. The molested child who survives, the teenager witness to homicide that lives, the quiet toddler watching prime time television for goodness sakes!

There are those among us that take it all in stride like water rolling off a duck's back. Or are there? Do they simply shrug it off, or do they lock that pain somewhere? Where does it go? Does the exposure to life's traumas blindly lead us down a desperate path unknowingly seeking relief? Are these acceptable societal norms, and tragic misfortunes of others, responsible for the social maladjustment, and emotional retardation of generations? Why isn't anyone taking care of us, especially when the statistics scream vulnerability? More proactively, why aren't we taking care of ourselves?

Derived from personal and professional experience, this topic weighs heavy on my already thick laden mind. We have all perused through the pamphlets, whether presented to us formally, or as a formality. Some, sought out through innocent curiosity until someone lays eyes on you in the "self-help" section at the book store. There are a myriad of programs available and readily in place for those afflicted and suffering. In retrospect, I wish I had taken such opportunities during my career to decompress and debrief after pumping on someones chest for hours to no avail, or holding a mother who just lost her son to heart disease. Those memories rush my entire body too eager to take me back there, like it happens everyday. Because it did. For me, specifically, it did. I would lose life's, limbs, money, prestige....daily. I chose to bear witness to trauma, tragedy, misfortune, and evil. If you didn't stuff the emotions, and keep on keeping on, you were chastised and respect of your peers became compromised. For this I wonder...why couldn't someone do for me what I couldn't do for myself? Isn't that their responsibility somehow? We are quick to lose hope when faced with the hopeless. Too quick to lose humility when people are at our mercy. And, far too eager to challenge Him when we disagree and lose serenity. Most anyone else will pat you on the back and give you two good 'ata boys'...but God will do for you what you can not do for yourself. He will carry you when these burdens weigh you down, and hand you off to those who will carry you until you can stand again. It Doesn't feel as good as the 'ata boys'...there is no instant gratification in it...but the humility, the serenity and hope come back in due time.

I believe that the obvious societal pressures contribute immensely. Darwin set a standard for mankind, that if you were not the strongest, you would be destined to parish. Romanticizing the idea of a strong, undefeatable race of people. The neanderthal that can slay the saber, and sit down with his family for dinner, not digesting or celebrating the life lost. Fear not, I am so not a vegetarian friends. In other context, lend a thought to the Nurse who just turned off an eight year old's life support. No family at bedside to speak of. Rightfully so, as her mother is in County pending charges for beating her child to the last inch of her life...on Christmas Eve none the less. I promise you...this is not exaggerated by one vowel. But the stoic nurse walks away and tends to her other patients, laughing with her coworkers. That is how it is supposed to be done. How about the soldier, turning off the survival mode in which his morals and values became severely compromised to survive. Now, able to fly back to his free country to watch his kids ride their bikes down the street. These are the celebrated ones. And justly so. The pat on the back, the promotion, a medal, respect of their peers..all this continues to feed the ideal that we are unscathed. We are victorious if we hold it in...don't cry...don't let them see you hurting.

So where does it go then? I've seen it come out in anger. Better mad than sad...that way I still look tough and people will either respect me, or fear me...either way...they can't see me for what I am. Others suppress feelings by abusing drugs and alcohol...the pain numbing types. The "I know it's there, and I know it hurts...but I can't feel it" types. I have also seen the unfortunate...or are they so unfortunate...those that merely lose all since of reality in a desperate attempt to keep it locked away, as once deemed a commendable trait. These are the friends and neighbors we hurry up and lock away so that they don't hurt anyone. But does anyone ever wonder... who hurt them? Who ignored their pain...their desperate attempts to get relief despite the inability of society to pick up on their affliction?

I wander on this for miles...almost to the obsessive degree. Why is it that we can not be celebrated for the vulnerable beings that we are? I believe it to be a humanely healthy response to pull away, back up, and put a limit on what I can expose myself to. It's not a weakness, although perceived to be. To put up these boundaries of sorts, to protect the raw flesh that is human sanity, can be misconstrued as insolent. But to the boundary builder, is as essential to exist as breathing.

As I can only speak for TerriMarie, I have to take care of myself. And to get others off the hook here...only I know what my limits are, that is why I don't rely on you to make my boundaries, or plaster the self inflicted cracks. We have to keep fresh that we are delicate, emotional beings...crying is as necessary a function as urinating. Hold that one in for a while! It will take longer, but to resist emotion will have the same devastating effects on your physical well being. All those disgusting things we encounter are on our path for a reason that I am just learning to trust. Your journey can be smooth, or all uphill...I have simply chosen not to carry the weight of the world as I travel despite the terrain. Not a lesson easily come by here, but a lesson not easily forgotten

Pssst...I've got a secret.

It had been my prerogative for an eternity to know what you were thinking. Selfishly driven, I was firmly convinced, that you were thinking things about me, or plotting against me, maybe even fantasizing about me. Hell, you could be making your grocery list for all I knew, but my self-centered personality fed me other ideas. Instinctively, my fears and insecurities ran ravenous...I had to know what was going on in your mind! It's a safeguard for a control freak, like myself. If I knew what you were thinking, I could manipulate how you perceived me. God forbid you form your own opinion of me, and not the way I wanted you to think I thought I was. This way, my way, is so much easier for everyone involved. I feel warm and fuzzy and you are not allowed to think independently. It's a win-win. I can prepare for whatever you might send my way...Oh and I can come up with a quick witted answer to impress you, say what you longed to hear, that I may appeal to your inner desire. I can assure you will see me as I want to be seen. Selfish? Self-loathing? Crazy person? Ah, all the spoils of my insane thinking. That was truly how I would operate daily.

My favorite Uncle responded to me in a way, when I would pester him to share his immediate thoughts, that made a lasting impression on me. He calmly replied to my inquisition, stating that he didn't have to share his thoughts. Wait...what? But, how can I...? As I started to become...well, frantic...devastated...simply ludicrous, he went on to boast that this was the single greatest thing about having thoughts...you don't have to share them, and no one will ever know what you've thought unless you allow them to. Why you smug *******! I was in extreme agony. That is the utmost tortuous response available on the market. To this day, it still bounces around the surviving brain cells inside my head. From that moment on, it has been my fantasy, my mission of sorts, to figure people out for them. It was a modest courtesy I automatically offered. That way, you didn't get all tangled up in how you felt, and what you thought. It is a whole lot easier on both of us if I just help you along in that department. I am incredibly intuitive, and only I know what is best for you.

Not always a popular hat trick if you can imagine. People didn't seem to love this about me, some even ran screaming like I had two heads and one eye. One of the few times my husband will scream at me with the vein sticking out of his forehead. And I can't possibly blame him for that now. Who in the world wants to be told how they feel, or what they've thought...especially without their best interest in mind? It was all about me..all the time.

I had this brilliant idea, shortly after my Uncle had scared my mind for life, on how my life's work could be designing this device I could implant in your brain. This is why I studied health and science in college folks...I was that serious. When I wanted to know the TRUTH, I could just push your button and it would print out your thoughts. Proverbially speaking, this has worked for me without the brain surgery. I can piss someone off enough, they will gladly tell me what I wanted to hear, and a lot of what I didn't want to hear, just to shut me up. Not nearly as effective and takes way too much energy on my part to get you to that point. This solution is better...I can do it on the sly. Trick me now, buddy!

Hmmm...I think trust issues just reared their ugly heads. Self discovery...ewwww!

Oh, but it gets better. There is this little thing called karma, friends. With all my attempts to control everyone and everybody, I got a little taste of losing all control imaginable. My dearest friends and family know that I had major back surgery this past December under conscious sedation. This is where you are out (of your mind) but awake. Oddly enough, the medicine is like a truth serum of sorts. Fun. Trust me on this one, when they know you are "one of their own", staff will take advantage of your vulnerability...it is human nature. All, it takes is a few leading questions, and you are on a roll with your naked butt in the air. Word to the wise...clean your closet beforehand. I know a couple of people that would have bought tickets to this event, some that would have sold tickets to get back at me. Humble pie...fuzzy cat...same aftertaste.

So, where do you hide all the secrets? I am discovering, in allotted doses, that it is up to me where and when and what. I wanted the control, so there it is. The difference in me now is, I am responsible for the consequences from the choices I make. If I bury a secret in the darkest place I can find inside of me, it lives...it gains strength. It can taunt and hinder me, create fear in me that makes me apprehensive about life. Instead, like a vampire lurking in the shadows of darkness, I can shine light on it, and it turns to dust. Assuredly, dust can not hurt me.

Just let go already!

My children have come to believe that the amount of effort they put into building such intricate castles from sand, will pay off by the length of time they remain unscathed. Carefully crafting trenches and walls, amplifying the grandiose structure on the mount which it rests. Almost as if it were untouchable. Soon enough, their expressions would quickly change as the tide inched closer. How suddenly, almost instinctively, their focus can change from the joy of living in the moment, to frantic and desperate attempts to derail the fate of their design. When it is all said and done, despite their valiant and innocent efforts, the sand returns to the path of least resistence... going downhill with the motion of the waves.

The threat to their creation is all too familiar in reference to how I lived life for as long as I can remember. The tide is inevitable. We can predict the rising and falling, only to prepare for what is bound to happen. Sadly, if you can not accept that, the frantic scurry to salvage the unsalvageable can become a constant reality. I still can familiarize with that sense of urgency like it is sitting beside me...it had been my driving force to breathe every minute of every day. I can get anxious about it in a split second if I let it out of that familiar spot just above my stomach, where my memory connects psychosomaticly. If you've ever had "that feeling in the pit of your stomach"....that is what I am referencing. The pressure and expectation to perform kept me functionally numb for as long as I have had breathin my lungs. I refuse to live there anymore...at any cost. At some point, you have to accept that the tide will take your sandcastle whether you build a barrier or not. I have learned to stop expending my energy in the valiant effort to control that, and I had had some serious walls in place upon coming to this conclusion. But what are walls if made of sand? Instead, I am willing to see where the tide takes me today.

Having said all that, it is my objective to actually believe it...more importantly, live it. It is volatile to one's peace of mind to consistently throw one's self into situations that...pardon my french...suck! Self-destructive behavior does not rock...contrary to my most popular of beliefs. I used to, wait, I still do it...create these expectations of life...fantasies of sorts. A wise man once said, "Expectations are resentments under construction". I am not sure who came up with that, but the message was delivered to me in this beautifully wrapped package, with a note addressed solely to me. I am the center of the world in case you didn't already know this about me. And just like divine delivery, it came when it was needed...just about the time the workers in my head were threatening to strike my construction zone if I didn't lighten up a little. I'm learning that it is easier to lower my expectations, and take what I get, I suppose. I promise you, nothing can kill the aftertaste of swallowing a fuzzy cat backwards...I rather be a bit disappointed at times. It reminds me that expectations are that easy to have. Lately, I was brave enough to test that theory, just in case the rules changed and I didn't get the memo. Needless to say, I'm a little disappointed to report that the heavens still did not open up to make all my wildest fantasies a reality, and the cat kicked and clawed all the way down. But I am not resentful this morning...I recognized my behavior. That, my friend, is progress.

So that is where I learn to let go. Realizing that it isn't life by my design, clearly, or I would have grabbed that bull by the horns and rode that bad boy to town. Instead, I just followed the plan designed for me, and I have to learn to trust that. Even as I tried to control minor details to get what I wanted, it still went the way it was suppose to. If I would simply give up my independence, all of it, things would go my way, His way, the way it suppose to go. That, my friend, is faith. Sand is sand, I get that...but man builds concrete, and then comes Tsunami. So don't buck the system . It is what it is.

Getting Started...

My sister, my inspiration. I can not get enough of Satceygirl blogging. I find myself anxiously awaiting her next post, and either in tears of laughter or longing by the time I'm half way through. It gives me that sense of connection with her when the miles separate us, and that feeling of closeness that sisters should have. This is what I aspire to achieve with my own writings. So many people have come into my life this past year that have inspired me on an array of levels. Distance separates us all in one form or another, whether it be geographically, or emotionally. I have deemed it necessary that I allow people to get to know me....who I really am. Unfortunately, I don't know who that is. Approaching my thirties, and I don't really know much about who I am and have not allowed myself that luxury until now. Oddly enough, those people in my life, that I hardly know, know me better than I do. That is an awkward feeling that I wish to change through confidence, while gaining the necessary fortitude for my journey.

What a beautifully cheap form of therapy writing is. It has always served me well, and now, I come to understand that by sharing with others, I will gain enormous strength. Just take it as it comes...that is how it will come out. Inspiration is random, and thoughts are provoked. You will truly get to know the trials of my life, and it is my hope to inspire others in similar situations. Life experience merely give us foundation...how your structure weathers the storm will be a testament to your life's work.

The turtle? Good question...Sea turtles never lose their way, and undoubtedly remember where they came from.