K.E. Garland's Blog, page 63
March 5, 2018
Monday Notes: When Being Yourself Isn’t Easy
Be yourself. Love yourself. Create boundaries. Speak your truth. Allow others to be themselves. If you’ve been following my blog for even a few weeks, then these should sound familiar. They are mantras by which I have lived over the past five years. However, I never want anyone to read these and believe that I think they’re easy. They are not. And usually I’m reminded by how challenging they are whenever a family member arrives.
This time it’s my grandmother.
[image error]Growing up, I spent a lot of time with Grannie. She was born in 1926 and holds certain opinions. One of them is that children should be seen and not heard. And if you spoke out of turn with her, you either were slapped, or told to shut up.
Much of my childhood and early adulthood I remember wanting badly to not only be heard, but also to be understood. And, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a communicator and have a lot to say…all the time. Being around Grannie meant silence, unless I was directly spoken to. And as exaggerated as it sounds, it always felt like an assault on my spirit.
[image error]Because the caveat for speaking my mind seemed to be becoming an adult, I thought surely that when “I got grown” I’d be able to use my voice with her. The answer is yes and no. It seems I can share what I believe or know is true for myself, but not at the expense of a disagreement or misunderstanding. At the age of almost 45, my insides still begin to swish around when I answer Grannie truthfully. When this happens, I remind myself that I’m an adult, whose words are important. And no matter how much I’m shaking on the inside, I take a deep breath, speak my mind, and if an argument ensues, I deal with it.
This occurred during her most recent visit. It began with a simple question: Do you want eggs and turkey bacon for breakfast?
“I want whatever you’re doing,” she answered.
“Okay,” I said. “When people visit, then I usually make breakfast.”
Just like that. The conversation shifted.
“I’m not people,” she said.
“Yes you are Grannie,” I replied. Cue shivering insides.
“I’m not people,” she repeated.
Not one for morning confrontations, I looked at her and said, “This is not a big deal. This is a yes I want breakfast or no I don’t.”
“Yes,” she said and went back to reading.
But this wasn’t over.
The conversation continued when she asked if my feelings were hurt because she didn’t attend Kesi’s graduation or my 43rd birthday event.
“Whenever people…” I began.
“There you go with the people again. I am not people. I’m special.”
She’d traded slapping and shut up for interrupting my words. At this point, I could feel myself getting angry. Instead of pushing it down as I would have in the past, I let myself be mad.
“Yes Grannie you’re special. But I treat people the same no matter what.”
“You do not treat people the same,” she said a little louder with a mouthful of eggs.
Cue shaking voice. “Grannie how are you going to tell me how I operate with others?”
Grannie paused. She seemed to be thinking about what I said. How could she really tell me how I function? She couldn’t. She doesn’t see it because she lives over a thousand miles away.
Her next words? “You might treat everybody the same, but I don’t like it.”
“Aha,” I said. “That’s what it is. You might not like it, but that doesn’t make it not true.”
“Well, you might make breakfast for everybody, but you better not make everybody your grannie,” she added.
This scenario ended with me laughing and saying, “That’s impossible. Everyone can’t be my grannie.”
I realize that I could’ve ended this conversation by simply saying, “okay” at the beginning. I understand that I could’ve stopped the discussion when it entered “I’m special” territory. But that’s not me. Years of silence have shown me that if I have something to say, then it’s okay to voice it, even if everything about the exchange is invisibly scary.
Also worth mentioning is that having unresolved issues that creep up in interactions and conversations seems to be common for everyone. But as I’ve said before on this blog, other people’s issues are not your responsibility, even if the person is your grandmother.
The only person you can ever control is you.
So, in that moment, I’m glad I controlled myself and still managed to speak my mind. Did I have more to say? Of course. Something in me still wanted to be heard. Understood. But it wasn’t going to happen that day. That’s something I realized. However, I also recognized my growth. No matter how tiny, it was significant. And this was a small success for sure because I was mostly silent for the remainder of her visit. But that’s okay too. Small victories are what have lead me towards the direction of being my true self. Who knows? Maybe next time I’ll speak up twice. Or better yet, maybe I’ll release the desire to be heard.
February 28, 2018
Thank You!
Thanks to everyone who participated in the self-love campaign! I appreciate you answering and sharing something that can be so personal.
Thank you if you subscribe via email. I know that receiving an additional one each day can be a bit much. I appreciate you all.
Thank you to each person who read and stayed with me over this past month. I can tell that several messages resonated with each of you. I appreciate your engagement.
I’m back to my regular blogging schedule next week.
Here’s to lots of self love and inner peace 
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February 27, 2018
February 26, 2018
*Monday Notes: **Forgiving Fridays as a Path Towards Self-Love
I forgive myself for thinking there was something wrong with me for so long just because I was adopted. I mean you can understand how I might’ve come to this conclusion, right? This feeling grew stronger, especially after having my own children. I thought who could give a baby away? Later, I learned this is simple for a schizophrenic, who couldn’t care for her own self, much less a child.
I forgive myself for thinking there was something wrong with me because my adopted mother died. Her death was the worst kind of abandonment for me. She cared for me on purpose, with the intent to love and nurture my being. Her death left me wondering, why? Am I not worthy enough to have any type of mother, biological or adopted?
I forgive myself for thinking there was something wrong with me because my adopted father then gave up his parental rights, leaving me to suffer a third type of abandonment. One where the only father I’ve known showed how easy it is to pass a human being on to someone else. He showed me the ease with which one could release a burden…a responsibility. This left me thinking don’t I matter to anyone?
Four years ago, I learned to be grateful for each of these experiences.
I’m grateful that my biological mother left me in an apartment at five months old. Her decision led me to a different environment and a stable, loving family.
I’m grateful for my mother’s death because I learned a valuable lesson at 16 years old. Life can end at any moment; therefore, it should be lived daily. The moment I saw her lifeless body laying in that hospital bed, my own life kicked into gear. Living on purpose wasn’t an option.
I’m grateful for my father’s abandonment. Because of it, I sought the “love” and “comfort” of other men for a very long time, and when I’d exhausted that path, I learned the only person left was the one facing me in the mirror. I learned to give myself love and then vibrate out from that place.
I’m grateful for the totality of these experiences because they’ve taught me that change is the only thing that’s constant. Whether it is as subtle as a flower’s bloom or as obvious as aging; change occurs. And because of these experiences, I know the phrase, “this too shall pass,” to be absolute truth. No pain lasts forever.
Forgiving myself for destructive self-talk and behavior has helped me release negative energy and create a flow for self-love. But first, I had to recognize places where I needed to forgive myself, not others. I had to realize that at no point is anyone else responsible for my life, only I am. For me, that’s one of the most important aspects of self-love: consciously creating your own story, one word at a time.
*This is one of those notes I kept putting off. I figured it was a nice way to begin wrapping up the self-love month.
**Written for Debbie’s Forgiving Fridays, which can be written any day of the week.
February 25, 2018
How Do You Love YourSELF
Today’s answer comes from the amazing Dwight Garland Jr., my hubby:
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