My Road is My Own

I used I date artist named Brendan. He was heaps of fun. He and I often joked that New Year was a strange time. And there was always someone making unreasonable demands or causing a row on New Year’s Eve, usually as the clock struck midnight.

This week I myself decided to face up to someone that I felt had overstepped the mark more than once with me. Hiding behind a facade of friendship they have encouraged poor behaviour, bad decisions and blame everyone else for their problems. They sent me a message accusing me of something I hadn’t done, then, the worse crime, asked why I hated them.

image shows woman in a white shirt in an overly dramatic pose.
It’s so unfair! Everyone picks on me!

This is a bit of a trigger for me. I’ve always taught that hate is a word bandied around all too easily. It’s not a good thing. True hatred is a thing of evil. It fuels war, murder and brings nothing but misery. If you hold hate for anything, anyone, you yourself are cursed. It eats away at your person. It will harm you and those around you. There is no room in my life for hatred.

I wrote back. In hindsight a foolish thing to do, as you cannot reason with some people. I was painfully truthful and laid out my reasons for distrusting them. I expected a reply such as “gosh you’re so wrong, let’s sort it out.” Instead they behaved to type. They blocked any future contact from me and sent messages crying “foul!” and “woe is me” to my loved ones.

Strangely, this did not endear them to me.

What has this got to do with Parkinson’s? Not much really, but it gives me such an interesting outlook. I’ve long maintained that how I deal with it frames much of my life. I could blame the world for my misfortune, cry, wail and hold my hand out, begging, searching for scraps of sympathy. (It would be hard, I don’t have a begging bowl.) Or I can shoulder the burden and deal with it. Lots of people have problems, issues, burdens to bear. What makes me any more worthy?

I’ll tell you: nothing.

Like a small angry child, these people behave worse than toddlers.

I was raised by a family that teaches hard work is the way to success. Nobody owes you anything. There’s no point in crying about things, you make the best of what you have. Pay your bills, don’t get in debt, be kind, truthful and honest.

I often say Parkinson’s makes me heartless,yet it doesn’t really. My superpower is seeing through the lies, untruths and those who prefer to live as victims. I find it hard to have any tolerance for them. Of course I myself wail and cry occasionally. Yet I prefer to live my life on my terms. I refuse to be a victim and instead choose to take responsibility for myself. My road is my own.

As for the person who contacted me recently? (I’ve also learned, holds me responsible for their inability to control people and force them to make bad decisions?) I have nothing but pity for them. Perhaps they will find a more positive path, but after past experience, I doubt it. Unfortunately I’m sure they’ll continue to live their lie.

I shall continue to live my own truth, attempting to do the right thing and pushing ever onward. It’s certainly not always an easy path, but I can truthfully hold my head high. I am not a victim. I continue to take responsibility for myself and teach my children to be strong and independent. I couldn’t do anything else.

Until next time.

Finally

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