Stop. Refocus.

Just when I was starting to feel like I had my life under control, someone who shall remain nameless, TRACY, decided to toss a big pile of bricks on my back.  Which is really nice because I needed to be brought back to real life where sanity is most definitely not an option.  Ever.  Until I die. 

The past several days, I’ve allowed my thoughts to spiral out of control from general happiness with life in general to OH. MY. GOD. EVERYTHING. SUCKS. IN. THE. WHOLE. WORLD. because I no longer feel in control of anything. 

That’s usually how my life works.  There’s an extremely delicate balance that is often hard to find, and once I find it, the slightest breeze sends it all tumbling over.  Maybe I’m balancing too much, ya think?

It’s taken me years and years to recognize chaos before it consumes me, but in the past couple of years, I like to think I’ve gotten better about seeing it sooner and taking the time to stop, breathe, and refocus. 

That’s where I am right now.  Everything seems like it’s spinning out of control, so I’m going to step back and redirect my energy towards the positive.

In the past, this process has usually ended with me shuffling priorities and making some hard decisions about the people I spend time with.  Some people naturally inspire, others naturally drag you down.  I’ve often taken the time to ponder the impact of many of my friendships on my life, and have been known to let friendships fizzle as a result.

Today, it finally (finally!) occurred to me that I maybe ought to focus more on the impact I’M having on THEM.  Am I the kind of person that inspires the people around me or do I drag them down?

Truth be told, the answer varies depending on who you talk to.  Something I get from my disfunctional family is the uncanny ability to support the Hell out of the people most destined for failure.  On the flipside, I’m minimally supportive of the people I believe the most in.  Why is that?

It’s because I have high expectations from the people I respect most.  I expect them to be strong, resiliant, tough, and able to muscle through each and every obstacle that crosses their path.  I expect that of them because I feel like that’s what’s been expected of me, and I feel like I’ve done it each and every time I’ve stood in the face of struggle.

What I’ve failed to acknowledge is that all of those people who I believe to have the strength to forge ahead . . . they probably all have the same desperate moments of panic and fear that I’ve had.  They probably have the same doubt and uncertainty that I’ve faced every obstacle with, and they, too, could probably use the reassurance and inspiration from people who believe in them.  Just like I could.

I get this from my father, no doubt.  My father who always claims to only help those of us who help themselves, but who pays my sister’s rent when she refuses to get a job for several years and then turns around and tells me I’ll figure it out when I call him in tears over something so severe I swallowed my pride to call my daddy. 

I hate when I realize that something about my personality is directly related to my disfunctional upbringing.  It stops me dead in my tracks every time and makes me obsess over how long it took me to recognize and change it.

I’ll be taking some time to refocus now.  To think about my priorities, about where I am in life, about where I should be, about what I should be doing, about who I am affecting and how, and about what I need to do to get back on track.

That might mean more blogging (and if it does, it means boring blogging). . . it might mean less blogging.