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Center of Their Universe
Center of Their Universe
It’s not easy being the center of everyone’s universe. A lot of my time lately has been spent trying to figure out how exactly I reached that center. As of yesterday, I decided that I must have lived a past life filled with moral indiscretions and deficiencies, which commands me to be overcome with guilt and, at times, an almost debilitating self-imposed moral obligation to others. Yes, that must be it, the past life theory.
Realizing that it seems a bit egotistical of me to put out there that I am the center of everyone’s universe, please allow me to explain. See, there are so many things in those peoples’ lives around me that can seemingly only be done by me. And it’s not just this way with my family. Oh no, that would be too easy. Even down to stepping away from an adult conversation the other night to walk next door and verbally wrestle with the mentally retarded/developmentally disabled neighbor to put his shirt on: I was the only one who could achieve the desired outcome.
I had a few minutes, and by that I mean a half hour, to myself yesterday, which I chose to spend sitting on the porch swing in the backyard. I decided that I was going to spend my few minutes of alone time trying to figure out exactly how I had become the center of the universe around here. What I came up with this: a lack of self-esteem. And yes, this is going to become of one those back in the day stories.
I was never a pretty child. I was always fat and had lots of freckles. I had horrible teeth, which took a surgery and six years of braces to straighten. I wanted everyone in the world to like me. So I did things for them. I did things that no one else wanted to do.
It didn’t get any better when my mom decided to start dating. Of course, my brother and I didn’t know she was dating at the time. She would leave right after supper and not come back until the wee hours of the morning. Any and every emergency that would come up would be handled by me. I would get on the phone and call around to her friends until someone knew how to get a hold of her. One such incident that really stands out in my mind is when my brother ran into an old rusty wire fence on his bike and required stitches in his knee. I would like to be able to truthfully write that either I couldn’t get my mom to come home or my uncle and I took him to the hospital, but I can’t remember anything past the conversation on the phone with my mom. Odd that I can’t remember the outcome, just the circumstance.
But anyway…
I didn’t have a lot of self-esteem. I was a total loss in the ways of self-confidence. I tried to be everyone’s friend, and I was. I am one of the few people I know who could walk into any clique and know someone well enough to stand out. But I wasn’t popular aside from most people knowing my name.
And isn’t it odd that not working things like that out when you’re a teenager or a child can really warp the way you turn out on the adult side of the fence? I mean, what if my childhood had been different? What if I would have been raised to reek of self-confidence and esteem? How would things have turned out then? Because now it has lent to this situation I am in to do everything for everyone: I feel I must in order to be someone important.
And it’s a deep grave at times.
A new family has moved onto the street; they’ve been here for about a month and a half. I really dig the mom. She makes me laugh and she’s “as is.” I haven’t had a real friend in a long time. Part of this is because friends equal obligation and responsibility and I don’t have the time or energy for that most days. But I digress.
This new friend of mine came knocking on the door early Saturday morning wanting me to get Da Man to move a baby bird that had made its way to the front of her house. She was afraid that it would die either from one of the numerous cats that prowl our street or her son. So Da Man and I went to rescue it.
The bird was the cutest thing. We kept it in a vacant hamster cage until I could get a hold of the local nature center. There wasn’t one doubt or my or anyone in my world’s mind that I would have kept the bird and attempted to save it should that have been required. But we put it across the street and its mama found it. And, I feel I should mention, I was told that I would have to provide it with bugs to eat about 14 hours a day. That bit of info helped me rapidly make the decision to put the bird across the street and hope--ask, believe, receive--that it made it.
For some reason yet unknown to me, I have been taking a different approach the past couple of days. I haven’t been so quick in responding to things or people. I don’t know exactly what is eating at me, but something is. Maybe it can simply be written off as part of the wonderful cycle of femininity.
Yesterday morning I jumped into the tub and began to rapidly proceed through the motions because in just a short moment I would be joined by the littlest Mini Me. Suddenly, as I was rinsing my hair, a strange taste filled my mouth. I wish that I could describe the taste, but I can’t. It’s nothing common. And I only know one thing about it: it’s a taste from my childhood. Don’t ask me how I remember that so vividly, but I do, although exactly what it’s a taste of escapes me. And instantly I was at peace. The taste made something snap inside my pinball machine head. I knew right then that whatever was going on in and around me was being acknowledged by something/someone. And I felt okay.
Just a tad later, I was sitting on the back porch. Mom’s dog and I were sharing the swing and were alone with nothing but the sound of the ponds’ waterfalls surrounding us. I caught a glimpse of a monarch butterfly in the bottom of the yard in my flower bed. I love butterflies; I find them to be very spiritual creatures. And then, without any given notice, she came to me and lit on my leg. The dog’s ears perked up but he did nothing. And I sat there, soaking in the feel of the light breeze from the fluttering of her wings. She sat there on me for a few seconds and then flew away. But those few seconds will stay with me for a long time.
We were heading south yesterday to run a very dislikable errand. Half-way to our destination a hawk dove onto the other side of the road and then rose, making its way directly in my line of vision. The hawk is one of my totems. So again, whatever is going on around me and inside me is being acknowledged.
And, as is my usual babbling style, I don’t know what that all has to do with my putting myself in the center of everyone’s universe, yet I feel as if it’s all significant.
posted on June 4, 2008 7:29 AM ()
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