These are streaming thoughts. If you are looking for a blog about something specific, this isn’t it. I am thinking about a bunch of things. I am writing a book. This book has me considering parts of my life that I would rather not consider, but I have to.
Welcome to my stream of consciousness.
Nature? Nurture? Faulty Wiring and Choices.
Thoughts About Culture
This morning, I was thinking about the kids I sponsor in India. A brother and sister. My thoughts brought me to my daughter. There are distinct differences between how they are growing up in Bengal, India and how she grew up in South Orange County, Californa.
What a difference. (Thank you, Captain Obvious!)
I sponsored another girl in India, in another program, until she aged out of the system at 18. She went to college. I always consider that she might have been forced to marry long before a program to assist her came along. Becoming a child bride is only one of the many crises that face women and girls in Bengal, India. 47% of girls are married off by their families before their 18th birthday.
I am well aware; it is not because I sponsored these girls that they are not married off. I know that I, personally, am not the reason they receive an education. Their parents took the opportunity presented and enrolled them in the program so that I then am matched to them.
Their parents made good choices. Their parents saved them, thought of them first.
Thoughts about parents
We think that in the twists and turns of life that we end up where we do because of what we did. We think that because of a teacher or a friend we have become one thing or because of a spouse we are another.
BUT… how did we get to that point? How did we get to meet that spouse or the point before that, to meet that teacher? How did we find our way into the home in which we grew up? If the food was hard to come by in our circumstances would our parents be too proud, or even able to take advantage of resources like food stamps or charity?
My parents and my grandparents made sure I always had a nice roof over my head. I always had food. When I asked for it, I got protection. The creepy guy I babysat for? He did something a little weird and my godfather, he was either the captain (or maybe the chief by then) of the police department, he had someone at that guy’s house in half-no-time. I was protected if I asked. Not like those girls in India.
I didn’t always ask for protection that I needed. Maybe that is part of why I turned out like this.
Thoughts about Humility and Being Humble
I tried to get food stamps once, and WIC. When my daughter was very young, and we were very poor. I would not ask my parents for food so I went to that place. I was turned down for everything I asked for because I owned a car. I explained that if I got rid of my car, I could not look for a job and if I did not have a job I could not get out of this situation. So I left with nothing, but we always ate. Even in adulthood, I knew that if I asked, I would get help.
Then, I found a job. I found a career, in fact.
It cannot go without mention, there is this disease I have, this brain, it has made some messes. Stupid choices. My brain only knows how to get into the messes it knows how to get into. Do you know what I mean? Habits, skills, my “go to’s”. Do you want to see me fuck something up with bad choices? Just look to the “go to” habits.
I know that there were times when my parents had to deal with one or the other of my choices. We all do, in our own ways. I have, I don’t know how often, but I have humiliated my parents with my choices, so…
We do the best we can. That’s final. End of discussion.
Thoughts About Choices
I travel in my mind as far back as I can go and try to figure out: when were choices made for me and when did that end and it was all me? When I thought it was all me, how much was really still the invisible guiding hand of what had been, or what was being, instilled in me?
How many choices have I ever made for/by me? Is there a place that can be reached by someone and clutched and even strangled in us early enough. Someone strong enough that you never again are making your own choices?
Nature vs Nurture. Not necessarily malevolent.
Cannot even figure out what to order from a menu.
Have so many choices in life been made for you that you no longer know how to make choices so you just say “yes”? Always, “yes” because you were taught to be a good girl, taught to do what you were told.
Just some thoughts on a Tuesday.