Today it is very tempting to give up my idea that this is about expression and simply to paste in some of the writing that I have been doing today, to try and sustain some order in my life.
At the beginning of all this writing was (and still is I think) a sense that Cycle 3 offered an opportunity for me to express myself in ways that I didn’t see or didn’t choose previously. I invented a distinction between expression and communication. “Communication” is all the speaking, writing, art work, etc. that I might do in order to influence, negotiate with and manipulate the world of people trying to get each other to do things with and for each other. “Expression” is speaking, writing, art, etc. for its own sake or perhaps for no sake at all! Of course there is no clear boundary.
Today I was writing email and ended up producing a large piece in defence of my financial situation and how I have managed it over the past – 28? – years. As the evening grows late it is tempting to simply paste in that email. The rest of the temptation is that the entire requirement to write that email came from another large message that questioned my situation and financial management. It pissed me off royally and I would love to just take a virtual slap back at the writer by making the whole thing public. Of course it’s going to get public anyway – this particular email that I responded to was sent to nearly every member of my family.
So what am I actually angry about?!? I think it is that (sucky baby?) I am unwilling to explain and defend myself, what I believe in and the pathways that I have chosen and WILL choose to fulfill my life.
It would be blissful, although clearly naïve, to imagine that in Cycle 3 I have gained enough trust and permission to do as I please without question. Sigh! It is not to be, is it?
At the same time I don’t want to get sucked into filling these two pagers with communication. Even though lots of people read these, the point of doing this is not to promote my “case”, but for me to actually get to see what my case is. As a friend said this morning, these writings are like verbal collages. After they are done and often in the process of doing them I get to understand myself and my world with a fresh perspective.
A strong theme has emerged in the past week. I have received many, many gifts over the years and particularly in the past few years as I have been living on a limited government pension. Many of these gifts have been financial. People who give me money frequently seem to feel that they are helping me out of a crisis. I believe that in the past I have actually believed myself that I was in a crisis. I guess I sometimes was!
The truth is though that there is a distinct difference between being in a crisis and being able to benefit from other people’s generosity. To define it somewhat simplistically – a crisis is when I am out of options. Many times when I have requested money from others or accepted money that wasn’t requested the appearance of that money has seemed like a very good option or at least the best option at the time. But rarely was it the only option. In other words, I have felt that I was making a choice in accepting the offer and not in any way agreeing to give up my capacity to choose what my next step in life would be.
It has become quite clear in both trivial and larger ways that many times people who are giving me money are then expecting me to make similar choices that they imagine they would make in my circumstances. In fact people often feel the right to insist that there is a path that I should take. Consequently over the years I have collected a number of people who are close to me who carry a bag of stories with them of how I have somehow failed to keep up my end of a bargain – a bargain that I was unaware of or only dimly aware of making.
Once again, I have no interest in blaming people for this. Even more so I have no interest in continuing the pattern. I see that it has been part of a convoluted pathway that leads me to either make poor choices or try to avoid certain situations or take on more than is good for me to take on or try to do things that I don’t want to do or to do things that make no sense to me. In another blog called “Ah, but that’s another story” I have written about how the process of receiving the benefit called the Ontario Disability Support Program limits and warps the lives of others who have been labelled disabled. I am now beginning to see how receiving largess is affecting me in similar ways.
I imagine – I dream – that I can gather the people who have been and continue to wish to be generous with me in some sort of large dialogue, and see if we can come to a basic agreement about what is the purpose of their generousity and what do they actually expect of me. This would give me the choice to turn down some people if the expectation is too different from the life that I intend to live. On the other hand it would give others and me a chance to be honest in a way that has not been possible in the past about how I make the choices I make and why I do some of the things that others find so odd.
I believe that people would come to realize that I largely steer my life through three lenses. The first is a strong sense that I have always felt that I have a God given purpose – a vocation. This sense is shifting strongly – I have written about this previously. I feel that I have more space than ever to have a personal enjoyment of my life as well as vocational accomplishment.
My second lens is a commitment to be served by my personal assistants in a way that benefits them and leads them to be able to live their lives more strongly conforming to their own sense of what is right for themselves. This leads to some intense dialogue and deep relationship – not with everyone of course – but with a large number of the people who have been in my life over the years. Many choices that I make are in the context of supporting these relationships.
The third lens came to me when I was twelve years old. I was sitting in the back of a church, behind a sea of adult heads, unable to see the minister or any of the activities that were taking place. I was miserable having recently been thrown out of Girl Guides because of my “disability”. I was encountering other barriers as well, and was rapidly learning that the world planned for me to fade away in a small room in my parent’s house.
I heard the minister read that God is love. It occurred to me that either this was a heinous lie and God had no interest what so ever in me or that God would participate with me in opening pathways for me to live a full life. As full as I was then, and now, of passion to have and do it all, I could not imagine the hell that lay before me if I was to be stopped at every turn.
And so on that day I choose to believe that God is indeed love and that that love would be expressed in my life by my always being able to find a way.
Of course how I see God now has changed from when I was twelve. However the principle upon which I live my life has not changed. I believe based on no evidence what so ever, but simply as a belief, that there is a way and I will find it. This has always given me the courage and the permission to pick up pieces, look for new pathways, make new friends, try new projects, ask boldly and otherwise live in search of possibilities that I do not yet know exist.
But the extreme way of looking at it that a twelve year old had perhaps is not the best way to look at it now. Perhaps my friends and family and I really could work out a way that would take out some of the concern and distress that they feel for my safety and sanity and still leave me with the freedom to choose new relationships, opportunities and pathways as they show up day by day.
I am looking forward to this dialogue.
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