Elene "Sissy" Lopez's Blog, page 2

Control = Stress

There are just some things in life that we can't control. In fact most things fall under this category. How frustrating it must be to want to force a block in a circle hole. I use to be one of those people. If things didn't go exactly my way or how I felt they should go there will be hell to pay for anyone in my path. I am thankful that I am no longer like that. No doubt I get frustrated and will give my self a nice dose of anxiety but inevitably I know that there are just some things, circumstances and people I have no control over. If control festers in your blood stream and you need everything mapped out accordingly you will make yourself crazy because it is an illusion. You just think you have control. Let it go - Is it uncomfortable? Hell yeah but there is also a peace you find in acceptance of things and of life. It doesn't mean you don't express how you feel or that you like the way things turn out - it just means you realize that it is what it is.

 “You must learn to let go. Release the stress.
You were never in control anyway.”
                                    ― Steve Maraboli  

Appreciation vs. Gratitude

Have you ever watched the face of someone you unexpectedly helped? It seems like a combination of relief, humility and appreciation.  Be grateful that you are in a position to help. To listen...to do whatever you can to assist a person's needs. 

On my way to work today I saw an elderly couple. It was humbling that the husband and wife were struggling to get her walker on the sidewalk.  I was running late (actually writing this as I wait for the train knowing it will be a late mark against me but such is my life..I digress) but without hesitation went there and assisted her keep her balance with one hand while with my other hand helped lift the walker on the sidewalk.  They both kept saying thank you. I just smiled and told them to enjoy their day.  I walked away thinking thank you...thank you for reminding me of all I have to be grateful for and for the smile and light in your eyes.

God willing we will all be there someday.  Offer someone some unexpected help and even if you don't see appreciation feel gratitude for being able to make that offer and when someone offers you help unexpected or not - be appreciative - because it was their choice to do so.

A 20 is a 20...

Whether it is covered in shit or crisp and clean at $20 has the same value.  So do people!  Whether they come from high end neighborhoods or projects they have the same value.

What other people think of me....

Is none of my business.



That is one of the hardest mantras for me to remember yet it is very simple to understand.  I cannot control what other people choose to believe or think about me.  That is actually one of the amazing things about life - to come to your own conclusions on how you feel about a circumstance, a person, a tv show.  Everyone has their own thought process.  It doesn't mean what they think or choose to think is wrong or right - but it belongs to them.



Can it be hurtful? Yes - especially when you seem to see so very clearly what they do not.  They however feel it is the other way around.  Does it matter? It does not and if it does there is still very little you can do to change a mind that has already been made up.



Acceptance is the key (so I have been told).  Accept that no matter what you have done, choose to do, have thought about doing and have said that there are just some people out there who will never understand who you are and have already made up their mind about you.  They are entitled to that thought...just like you are also entitled to believe that some of those very people are idiots who should live their own lives.

If it ends today...

If it all ended today could you look yourself in the mirror and say that up until this point you have been the best you possible?  What is your version of being the best you possible?

I can honestly say yes I can.  My best version of me is being someone who can acknowledge past wrongs and choices even though they can't be changed.  Trying to learn along the way and forgiving myself my errors. Giving myself patience and understanding, the same amount I would give a friend or family member.  Trying my best not to pass judgment, especially when I am angry or hurt, whether for myself or someone I love. Not always easy when you see someone you love being hurt, sometimes downright impossible. 

We have all been on either side of the coin.  Don't presume to know someones thought process or reasoning - just know that is what is working for them right now.  Live your life.  Own what is yours. Accept accountability for your actions and let others do the same.

Random Ish & Other Nonsense

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Insight....

At the age of eight I would steal my mother’s small
personal items and give them to girls in school so that they would like me and
be my friend.  I don’t know what made me
do this but looking back I can see that much of my life carried a similar
pattern.

 

As years progressed I learned to act the way people wanted
me to act and say what they wanted to hear. 
Making my own decisions and having my own opinion was foreign.  I felt that I was everything wrong and
ugly.  My marriage was full of drugs,
drama and lies.  My day to day activities
were performed in mechanical mode.  I
acted as if everything in my life was fine, it hurt too much to admit it
wasn't.  No one suspected otherwise, or
maybe they did and just didn't say anything. 
I had become that woman, the
one that people talk about by saying "why doesn't she just leave?" or
"she must like being treated that way if she stays."  The woman most people see as weak and
pathetic.  I had perfected silencing my
conscious with denial, this was how I lived my life.




In February 1992, at the age of 23, I gave birth to my
son.  He was beautiful, innocent and
completely dependent on me. One morning I was kneeling in the shower sobbing.  Crying and self-loathing was as common to me
as breathing.  I was drained and tired of
hurting.  I didn’t want to be this type
of mother to my son.  My obligation to
him gave me the courage to make a change and take chance on me.






Standing in front of an audience naked is the only way I
can describe the fear and humiliation I associated with taking this step but I
was drained and tired of pretending. I sat at my desk that morning and called a local
clinic.  I was terrified of being
overheard.  It felt like I was admitting
I had an STD.  I whispered that I wanted
to make an appointment with a therapist and was told I had to see a
psychiatrist first.  I wondered how they
knew just how screwed up I was. 




Several people in my life had made their feelings about
therapy clear.  I kept hearing their
voices:




“You don’t need
therapy all you need is prayer and the good word of the Lord.”

“Therapists just try
to control your mind and milk insurance companies.”

“Therapists are for
crazy people.”




I dreaded them finding out but I dreaded continuing living
this way more.

The appointment with the psychiatrist was a formality but I
felt scared and exposed.  I don't
remember his name.  I only know that he
began asking me routine questions: 
"Do any of your body parts
move involuntarily?" (Apparently, this really happens.)  "Do
you feel like you want to harm yourself?"  "No, but I often have the urge to hit my
husband with a frying pan while he sleeps and hide so that he thinks he is
dreaming."




These feelings are,
surprisingly, not uncommon and did not qualify me as mentally ill but normal
with a touch of slightly crazy.  He
continued "Do you hear voices?"  "Only the one that never has anything
nice to say about me and frankly I am tired of her."  All of the questions were basic until this
one particular question.  "What are your needs?"  I remember looking at the doctor and saying
"What?"  The psychiatrist put
his pen down, leaned back in his chair, looked at me and repeated the
question.  Imagine living in your own
body for 23 years and not even know that you are entitled to have needs and have them met.  It was a revelation.






That question started the process of peeling through layers
of lies, hurt and resentment that had consumed me for so many years.  I realized I was more than just someone's
wife, mother, daughter or sister.  I was
not put on this earth solely to be of service to others.  My value as a human being would not diminish
if I took care of myself.




It is said that knowing is half the battle but in my case
knowing was the first day of a 15 year boot camp.  Loving myself immediately was unrealistic.  I had to take baby steps by showing myself
compassion and ignoring the voice in my head that kept saying I wasn't good
enough or worthy of love.  I had to learn
how to put my needs before others and set boundaries.  On paper this seems like a tidy task but I
assure you it wasn't. 






Forming my own opinions and learning to trust my instinct,
while battling low self-esteem, felt like crawling up a mud mountain during a
downpour.  Accepting that I did not have
to give every ounce of myself as a declaration of love aroused feelings of
guilt and fear.  Simply saying "no”
was painfully draining.  It was and
continues to be a slow process.




My journey was not neatly
planned out.  There have been times where
I have detoured, stopped or sat on a fence because I wasn't sure which way to
go.  I have even sought shelter when I
was tired or the road seemed endless.  This
is my journey and it has been a curse and a blessing. 
I have learned so much about myself and am still learning love who I am.  I have found buried deep in me a sense of
humor that allows me to laugh.  I am not
perfect.  I continue to be a work in
progress.  I am one of the lucky ones. 




To the disappointment of my sons, I have mastered saying no
and even throw in a "hell no", "I think not" or "you
must be on drugs if you think I would say yes."




In case no one has told you "YOU are important and worthy of love simply because you exist."  You deserve to give yourself the same, if not
more, kindness and compassion you give to others and while it may seem like you
are alone in your journey I promise you are not. 

Life Soup...

Sometimes in the morning I wake up before the alarm. I lie and bed looking at the ceiling feeling calm and my mind starts to wander. I remember times past. Experiences that happened so long ago it is almost like I read them in a book and was actually not the main character. Moments of hysterical laughter shared with special people. Times of grief and great pain that eventually pass and are stored to reflect on from time to time. I think to myself:

[insert thought bubble] - Yeah, that was me. I went through that and came out.

Sometimes I came out limping, others crawling and on rare occasion I ran the f*** out (those who know me know I don't run unless there is a major sale or I have to go to the bathroom). The point is a came out. Survived times I thought I couldn't possibly have the strength to endure (thank you God for only giving me what I can handle).

Those experiences were spices in this big pot of soup called "My Life." Once the spice is added it can't be removed - you can try to dilute it by adding more of another spice to hide the flavor or to reduce its potency but the spice is still in there and you have to make the best of it. People will come and say "I don't know why you added that spice because I don't like it." My response can only be "this is My Life Soup not Your Life Soup." This is the way I was taught to make it and I can't really start from scratch again because there are some spices that I just know I will always use - whether someone else likes them or not - because it's My Life Soup - and the choice is yours as to whether or not you want to share it with me.

Life Soup...

Sometimes in the morning I wake up before the alarm.  I lie and bed looking at the ceiling feeling calm and my mind starts to wander.  I remember times past.  Experiences that happened so long ago it is almost like I read them in a book and was actually not the main character.  Moments of hysterical laughter shared with special people.  Times of grief and great pain that eventually pass and are stored to reflect on from time to time.  I think to myself:



[insert thought bubble] - Yeah, that was me.  I went through that and came out.



Sometimes I came out limping, others crawling and on rare occasion I ran the fuck out (those who know me know I don't run unless there is a major sale or I have to go to the bathroom).  The point is a came out. Survived times I thought I couldn't possibly have the strength to endure (thank you God for only giving me what I can handle).



Those experiences were spices in this big pot of soup called "My Life."  Once the spice is added it can't be removed - you can try to dilute it by adding more of another spice to hide the flavor or to reduce its potency but the spice is still in there and you have to make the best of it.  People will come and say "I don't know why you added that spice because I don't like it."  My response can only be "this is My Life Soup not Your Life Soup."  This is the way I was taught to make it and I can't really start from scratch again because there are some spices that I just know I will always use - whether someone else likes them or not - because it's My Life Soup - and the choice is yours as to whether or not you want to share it with me.

Sorry I am late (fail)......

I got the shits as I was leaving the house.

I was up late watching porn.

I couldn't find my dealer.

I was out until 4 am on a bender.

I thought the judge was going to see me earlier.



Feel free to share some of your own.