Kiss The Fiddler

Ramblings, moments of humor, random thoughts, experiences, insights, simple wisdom, and whatever else I feel like sharing.

Tuesday, February 26, 2013


If I'm going to think about and practice letting go, then I have to get honest about what binds me.  Less binds me now than used to.  

I used to be quite bound by my past.  I lived as though my past was something I needed to escape from.  And, really, it was.  And I did.  And it was hard.  Now I live in the present.  Yes, my past has shaped me.  It's helped me grow wiser.  It's taught me many things that most people don't tend to admit that they know if they do.  I don't regret my past.  And today, my past doesn't bind me. 

My own expectations bind me sometimes.  I expect that certain aspects of my marriage will look a certain way and then I'm upset when they don't.  I expect that my body will be able to do certain things, and when it can't, I'm upset.  

Sometimes I feel bound by society's expectations of me.  I "should" do this or that or be this or that or act in a certain way, be thinner, have fluffier hair, a nicer car, etc.  It's hard, I admit, to not let the culture I live in push me in ways that might not be healthy for me.  Spend more.  Be the perfect wife (what is that?).  Dress with flair (ha ha ha).  Achieve a higher degree.  Marry a man.  Push your kid to conform.  Have a greener, more manicured lawn than your neighbor, etc.  I don't very often buy in to society's pressures to conform.  Or at least I try not to.  I drive a wrecked car and quite enjoy it.  I'm a woman, married to another woman (gasp).  I have a beautiful "less-than-society's-perfect" child whom I cherish.  I mow my lawn twice a year so it can grow pretty and delicious dandelions.  But, once in awhile, yes, I do feel bound by society's expectations.  I look at my body with less than kind eyes because "I'm fat".  I examine the sweet wrinkles around my eyes in the mirror and wonder if they "make me look old".  I worry that I'm not "contributing enough" (bullshit).  

I think the thing that binds me most is fear.  Yes, fear.  I'm afraid that I'm not a good enough mom.  I'm afraid that, in the process of loving Luken, I'll hurt him.  I'm afraid that I won't wake up in the morning.  I'm afraid that I've taken for granted too much.  I'm afraid that I've risked too much to believe (what if it's a trick?).  I'm afraid that I'll always have migraines.  I'm afraid of lightening.  I'm afraid of fish biting me when I'm in the river.  I'm afraid of mice.  I'm afraid of puking.  I'm afraid of not measuring up - to myself.  I'm afraid of some things that i should be afraid of and lots that is well, silly.  

What binds you?  And how do you set yourself free?  I guess if we knew, that'd be the key, eh?  For me, acknowledging what binds me is the first step in getting free of it.  So, there ya go.  My bindings.  More for me than for you but that's mostly what this blog is anyway.  



1 comment:

wildwomanjd said...

That's right! Acknowledging what binds us is taking responsibility for those bindings so that we can loose them, or allow them to loosen from us. (usually we have to loosen them ourselves because they originate within us - they're internal, not external.)

I have bindings, too. I worry about not having been a good enough mommy. That's something in the past that I cannot change at all now. I don't worry about it, I guess, I just have trouble letting it go and not holding it against myself - forgiving myself!

I am afraid of getting old and loosing mental ability. I think that's my biggest fear, looking ahead. Is that a binding? Or just a fear. I have so much I still want to learn, so much to do! I need another life to fill. I spent so much of this one flailing around being immature and irresponsible for myself and the course of my life, being a victim of my life.

We should all be lifelong learners. Learners can proceed. Others are in various circular patterns, going over the same things again and again, around and around. You are a learner, moving ahead, sometimes plodding, sometimes crawling, sometimes struggling in your own internal mud. But from my perspective, I can see that it is getting easier to keep steadily moving ahead. Bravely, doggedly, forcing yourself. Moving. Moving on in life.