This Is Not Burger King

Mar 31, 2013 by

When you were a child and you didn’t get your way how did you react?

Did you cry? Throw a tantrum? Pout or withdraw? Did it work? For some of us those tactics were like magic. For some they got us into more trouble. It mainly depended on the adult we were trying to get it from. Maybe you just accepted what your parent said because you knew they were looking out for you.

I think you’re lucky if you had at least one nurturing parent who was willing to encourage you to ask for your desires, even if you didn’t always get what you wanted. In my family I learned how to give up. It was easier than fighting for what I wanted.

As a child I gave up on receiving material things. If I was ever given something I sure did appreciate it. I would hang on to it with a death grip. The few things my mother ever got me are cherished to this day. Mom usually taught me that wanting things only left me disappointed.

I used to dream of being an author. My grandfather taught me that I could never make a living as a writer. He thought that being a lawyer would have been a fantastic way to earn my money. Or I could go to work for the government so I could have job security and a good retirement. Writing was not for me.

My eighth grade teacher didn’t think I was good enough either. He chose not to let me in to an advanced English class for high school.

These things can be devastating to a child. Surely they must be right.

I couldn’t have material things and I couldn’t have my career. So I gave up, as usual.

Fast forward 30 years. I’m still not drawn to expensive material things. Comfort is fine. For quite a while it was ok that I wasn’t a writer. I found a job in a library and was trained to be a government worker. (I imagine he is rolling in his grave at the lack of security the government offers now!) That should have made me happy, right?

Well, it would have made him happy. I enjoy working in a library. Books don’t talk back to me and they bring me comfort. However, my government job doesn’t bring me security or monetary comfort.

My desire to write stayed with me throughout my life. Getting the old crap out of my head has proven to be a frustrating challenge. I have to write. I feel so much worse when I don’t get the thoughts into a tangible form. Life makes more sense when I can read it. I am learning to honor my desire to write and I’m working on my mental state that allows me to make a good living doing it.

I’m taking small steps, but they are still progress.

I’m also working on my spiritual side again and allowing life to flow in a positive direction. I believe our thoughts become things. At the moment I’m reading about Infinite Possibilities from Mike Dooley.

If we could walk up to a counter and place a life order what would you choose?

I would order the thing I have chased my entire life: The safety that comes from someone who loves you more than anything. That means being the world to someone who will put me on a pedestal, hear my voice when I’m speaking, enjoy time with me and play with me. Someone who makes me feel special.

In my mind everything else in life would fall into place once that key piece was found.

If only my husband would pay more attention to me. He could cuddle with me. He could enjoy life with me. He could kiss me goodnight every night and tell me how wonderful I am.

[My thoughts used to dance around jackpots. If only I could get a royal! Life would be so much better! Eventually I would get a royal, but, of course, I gave it right back that day or a few days after.]

Did I mention that I believe thoughts become things?

There is a huge difference in thoughts. You can wallow in the present with unhealthy thoughts. or you can envision a better future with clarity and healthy belief systems that are more powerful than the negative.

Here is the kicker: when I was a kid I learned how to give up. I don’t ask my husband for what I want (from my childhood training I am certain that I will be denied). I withdraw. I pout. I dream about that illusive safety that clearly wasn’t meant for me.

However, when I open my eyes and ears I realize that I already have much of it. Damn. My husband aches because I won’t let him please me. He’s happy to kiss me good night but he doesn’t want to be rejected. My withdrawal has made him feel like I don’t want his love. He makes me a priority but I don’t see it when he does.

I’m too busy looking at what he doesn’t do.

Have I mentioned that I am a work in progress?

We all are. Emotions are incredibly tricky for me. Turns out this is Burger King. I just need to step in closer to place my order.

Blessings my friends,

Kim

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