We only have one life, and yet it seems to go by so quickly.  We spend our lives fretting about things that really have no importance and worrying about people that don’t even matter in the large scheme of things.  We get so caught up in trying to make others happy and satisfying them that we don’t make ourSELVES happy…and that is what I think makes life go by so quickly.  The older I get, the more I realize how important it is to make this ONE life a happy one.  By your own standards, and no one else’s.  Given, you spend the first part of your life not understanding this, because you’re a child, and children (most children) are already happy.  Even children who grow up in the most poverty-stricken areas can find some sense of happiness.  You don’t have to HAVE things to be happy.  Sometimes having things makes people unhappy, and having these things complicates life to some extent.  Children in rich families are assumed to have the happiest lives around, but in truth, sometimes these children have parents who just give them things to substitute for time that won’t be spent together because the parents are always busy doing something else.  Many times these parents let other people raise their children.  Oftentimes children in these types of situations don’t grow up to appreciate things quite as much because they don’t have to work for them, or ever really WANT for anything.  I’m not stereotyping, I’m just thinking aloud.  Children in lower income families may not have everything they want.  They may spend multiple holidays wishing for a certain gift and not get it.  But it’s not because their parents just don’t want them to have it.  In fact, most of the time it is breaking their hearts not to be able to get that certain gift for their child.  But that parent does their best to do everything they can for that child.  That family is a close family, one who tells each other how they feel and remains close throughout time.  Just like in a rich family, these families may not get to spend much time together because the parents have to work to provide for their family, but the difference is that when those poor parents get their time off, they are spending time with their family, going to children’s activities, supporting their family in any way possible.  Their time off is not spent doing social events to promote themselves in society.  And once again, I’m not stereotyping-this is just what I have seen over the years. Let’s say, for the record, that the families are equal.  All parents get to spend time with their children.  Why is it that certain families have unrealistic expectations for their children, and just REFUSE to let them do what makes them happy?  Why is it that some families do not accept their children for who they are, and instead try to force them to conform to standards that are more “appropriate” in society.  And this is a fact-you don’t usually see these types of parents in middle to lower class families.  This is something that is more prone to children of advantaged parents.  And I can say that because I grew up in a family that held standards that were unrealistically high for me.  All of this does have a point, people.  I feel like I’ve been rambling and that none of this makes sense, but I truly do feel like the way we grow up, the way our parents treat us, all has a strong impact on who we become as adults.

As a child, my parents divorced when I was 7.  I am adopted, and my mother always wanted me to be a specific way.  My memories as a child reflect a strict household in which I acted the way my mother wanted me to act.  I was loved, there is no doubt about that, but that is because I was a child who honestly did not even realize that I could buck that authority figure.  I did not realize that I could be anything different than what she wanted me to be.  I was not born a toothpick, yet my mother wanted to treat me as if I was.  I was watching my weight from the time I was adopted.  I was doing dance (which I did love), taking music lessons (which I now know the value to), and doing things that would get me far in life.  I was never given the chance to take art, which was something I longed to do.  I was never allowed to think of things that I might like to do for fun-my mother made those decisions for me.  She even picked out my clothes until I was almost out of middle school.  So do I really remember feelings of overwhelming happiness?  Not really.  Was I happy? I’m sure I was.  But I do wish I could go back to that time and be a kid again, and truly enjoy that time in my life.  I do remember that getting into middle school was the time in which I started rebelling against the strict rules that my mother had.  I wouldn’t say that I really rebelled, because there isn’t much you can do as a middle school kid to rebel, but I was definitely a bitch.  We fought and argued like no other.  I finally started to realize the warped views that she had when I got to this point in my life.  I finally realized that her saying I couldn’t be friends with certain people because of where they lived, or what their parents did…I realized that was really messed up.  It was warped.  I don’t know what happened to me then, but I started to do stupid things to get attention.  I would pierce my ear in the bathroom while I was at school.  I would get sent to the Time Out Room.  I ruined those three years of my life because honestly, I just didn’t care.  About myself.  I was so suffocated that I just didn’t even TRY to be an individual.  I just went with it.  To this day she reminds me of how “difficult” I was as a child.

So again, there’s three years of my school life that I wish I could get back.  Still doing music lessons, stopped doing dance, and was actually allowed to play softball.  But this was the point where she judged my friends, wouldn’t allow me to talk to certain people on the telephone, and the point where her drinking became more and more apparent to me as a problem.

Then I got to high school.  I don’t know what happened then.  I can honestly say that there were periods of my life in high school that I was really truly happy.  But I don’t think I appreciated it while I should.  The truth is, she was still suffocating.  She was still judgemental.  She was still prejudiced against people who were not GOOD enough for her, and for our family.  I was still not allowed to bring certain friends over, and to be honest I had to lie to her just about every time I went out.  I must have said I saw a million movies, but I didn’t see 1/3 of them.  She wouldn’t let me out of the house unless I had a specific place I was going.  And I had these certain friends that I would say I was hanging out with, and then it’d be ok for me to go out.  She tried so hard to force friendships on me because they were the “popular” kids, and I’d have these people over and be so uncomfortable and so out of place, yet I’d do it just to please her.  But that’s ok.  I actually do remember having some fun in high school.

Finally, it was time to graduate.  I started out the first summer after I graduated already attending college.  I remember taking English Comp.  I wrote my first story and my professor liked it so much he had me read it aloud to the class.  I finally had found something I was good at.  I told my mom about it, and she gave me a “suggestion” for what my next topic should be.  I didn’t know how to tell her that I knew nothing about how football teams get picked for the playoffs, so I agreed to do that for my topic.  That was one of the most humiliating experiences of my life.  My paper did terribly, and my professor sat me down and told me he was disappointed in me.  He told me that it was obvious that it was something I knew nothing about, and wondered why I had picked this topic.  So again I let her pick something for me, and it failed miserably.  She convinced me to go through Rush, and I ended up pledging a sorority.  Even that sorority wasn’t really good enough for her.  Before I knew it I was flunking out of school.  I dropped out.  I didn’t know what made me happy.  Long story short I made some really bad decisions.  I spent months without going to school, making life harder on myself than it truly needed to be.  I alienated myself from friends and family.  And once again, when I hit rock bottom, who did I have to call to bail me out? My mother.  And she did.  I went to live back at home, and before I knew it, I was back in school again.  But it wasn’t the same.  People talked about me, people somewhat blackballed me.  I made my way back into the social circle, but my mother to this day cringes when I say I want to go to Shreveport because she is afraid that I will get back into that same swing of things that I was in before.  And that’s not the case-no use arguing it, because I have plenty of times.

I just wanted a change.  I just wanted to be happy.  I finally left Louisiana and decided to go to school in Tennessee.  I have always, always been searching for what makes me happy.  And you know what, I don’t think I’ve ever truly found it.  I have spent my whole life pleasing my mom, keeping her happy, keeping her off my ass, that I have forgotten the most important thing of all-making MYSELF happy.  When you have an alcoholic parent, it is much easier to not rock the boat than it is to try to do things to make yourself happy.  So I bypassed learning about myself to just make myself into a cardboard cutout of what my mom wanted me to be.  Next thing I know, I’m a grown adult and I have no damn clue what it is that makes me happy.

I’ve gone through two degree programs and truly didn’t know what I even wanted to be “when I grew up.”  I did what I’d always thought I would do-become a teacher.  I wanted to be a forensic psychologist, but my mom told me they “didn’t make enough money.”  So I stifled yet another dream of mine and went into Education.  Don’t take me wrong, I love having an impact on children’s lives, but I was not allowed to make that initial decision for myself.  Hell, I graduated from my bachelor’s and worked teaching 3rd grade for quite some time.  I had the lowest self esteem ever, and as a result those children and my bosses tore me apart.  I did terribly and had the most miserable time of my life.  I feel that that happened to me because I didn’t know squat about myself.  I did not have a firm ground to stand on, and those children KNEW that.  My boss KNEW that she could put me through the ringer and I’d just keep jumping through the hoops like a trained dog.  And I did.  So when I finally had just had enough, and was severely depressed, my mom, once again, came swooping in to “rescue me”.  She decided that I should move home and go to Library school.  That’s right folks, even THAT was not initially my decision.

So I get back to Louisiana and she gives me three months off to lose weight.  Then I started Library School.  I didn’t even know if that’s what i wanted to do, but it was easier to do it than to actually sit down and think about what it was that I really WANTED to do.  It was easier to just go to school and not worry about a thing except doing classes-that’s what I’d done my whole life, and that’s what I knew how to do, so I just went through the motions.  But eventually that became a facade.  Eventually I became unhappy doing that and started to rethink library school and wonder if that would really make me happy.  I started thinking about pursuing a different career path altogether.  But the more and more I looked into it, I didn’t want to do that.  That just goes to show you that for the longest time I just didn’t even know what I could do that truly was my own decision.

Anything that was not approved by my mother was frightening to me.  I had a friend all the way through high school that was what I thought, a true friend.  My mother hated her, yet I was too afraid to even tell her that I was still friends with this girl.  I remember when the bottom fell out of that and she found out.  I lied to her and told her we weren’t friends.  Now, we aren’t friends because this girl is a little crazy, but I couldn’t even bring myself to be honest about a FRIEND when I was 25 years old.  That is how much control she had over me.  I even lied about Ryan for the longest time, making him virtually invisible to her.  All because I wanted to be that carbon cutout that she wanted me to be.  I wanted to make her happy more than I made myself happy.

Finally, I graduated from my schooling.  I decided that I wanted to go back in the classroom and give it another shot.  I was finally thinking for myself.  I took a Kindergarten teaching position.  I called my mother and told her about it and she was unhappy that I had just finished a master’s degree program in Library and had taken a position that was only using my undergrad degree.  But I didn’t care this time.  This time I had made that decision because I felt this feeling in my heart that told me it was the right thing to do.  And you know what? It was the right thing to do.  Those 5 months gave me the most self-confidence I had ever felt in years.  I knew that I was good at what I was doing.  I had people at work telling me that all the time.  I finally felt like I was in my own element.  At the end of the year the principal asked me to be the school librarian, and she told me that she knew I could turn around the library the way I had turned around the classroom.  I took the job.  Again I felt that self-confidence rising.  I knew that I was organized, and good at my job.  I knew that people found me dependable.  I started getting therapy to become stronger.  I started making decisions for myself and not for my mother.  I actually stopped talking to her and seeing her for almost 5 months.  I took that time for myself, and I needed it.  It made her realize that she needed to respect my boundaries and let me make decisions that made ME happy.  And I did.  In December Ryan and I got engaged-at first she acted happy, then eventually let me know that she probably wasn’t as happy as she made out to be.  I don’t think he is the one she would’ve wanted me to be with, but you know what? I don’t care.  He makes ME happy.  And for once in my life, I’m doing what makes me happy.  I’ve only got this one life, and I am the one who is pulling the strings on this puppet.

I know this seems to be a roundabout way of talking about finding what makes you truly happy.  But I’ve spent so long making others happy, primarily my mother, that I don’t even truly KNOW what makes me happy.  I’ve just latched on to other people and tried to do things that made them happy.  My friends and I bought tickets to see Broadway shows in Baton Rouge.  I hate it.  I’ve found excuses not to go to every single damn show.  The last one is this week and I’m literally sick at even having to try to figure out a reason not to go.  Do you know that when I have someone ask me what my favorite color is, I don’t really know?  I know some colors that I like, but I never even have had a favorite color.  I have a hard time even thinking of things that I like to do to make me happy.  I’ve tried to do things lately to make myself happy, and instead I just end up watching TV or browsing Myspace.  And you know, that’s fun to do every once in a while.  But I’ve had to start exploring myself.  Trying to think of things that make me feel good about myself.  In the past week I’ve really started doing those things more than I was.  I LOVE to read.  I’ve always loved to read.  In the past 5 days I’ve finished a book and started another one.  I’ve picked up my needlepoint that I’ve been working on for almost a year and I’ve nearly finished it.  I’ve blogged more.  I’ve decided that I’m going to try to write something this summer.  I want to look more into things that I enjoy, but I just don’t even KNOW what to try!  So for goodness sakes, please, in your life, start out doing things that make you happy.  Insist that you must do things that make you happy.  Because the older you get, the more you just fall into the familiar and forget what truly makes you feel good.  It becomes almost harder to remember what those things are.  Luckily, I’m not THAT old ;-)  I think I’ve caught myself at a young enough age that I can make a difference in my life and make myself happy.  But I do know one thing-the key to life is living it for yourself, and no one else.

Hope this rambling made SOME sense.