September 15, 2010

I am quite a perceptive person. My friends find it funny that I know things about them that they didn’t even know about themselves. It comes from years of practice and observing people. To be truthful, it comes from a coping mechanism I picked up as a child.

Stability was not a word I would have understood as a child. We were constantly moving and being taken from one place to another. But after a while you get use to it. But I remember the first time I was uprooted. I was around five. I had spent my developmental years living with my mom, aunt, granddaddy, sister, and stepfather. My mom and stepdad had been fighting. Then we were moving, but not with my mom or stepdad. I remember feeling like I was going on a trip to for a little while, but knowing that my mom would come and get me so we could go home. She didn’t at least not for some months. At five I began to struggle with my identity. Who was I outside of my mother? I mean she was all I had in the world. I loved my sister, but she had a dad. I didn’t or I didn’t think I did. I just had my mom. And I missed her, my granddaddy, and aunt so much. That I started watching Standford and Sons and anything with Queen Latifa in it. It was my way of coping with loosing them. You see my granddaddy looked just like Standford to me. So whenever I saw the show I could pretend I was there with him and be happy. The same went for my aunt and Queen Latifah. It was my way of dealing with their loss. After some years I realized that they weren’t really my family, so I grew out of that phase. But that was the being of my being a perceptive person. From that point on, I was able to draw parallels between people’s personalities which helped me to know how to handle situations. It was my way of predicted how people would act based on past experiences and like situations. I began to notice similarities between events and people. It helped me to determine who was dangerous and who was safe. It was my way of protecting myself. I knew which people would try to beat me up and how I should handle that. And which ones were just begging for attention.

But this gift came with a price. Unlike most people who are able to separate fact from fiction. I began to notice similarities between people and outcomes to the point where I thought changing or fixing on would instantly cure the other. I began to live in fear of recreating painful memories by over analyzing everything. I was going into information overload. And it didn’t occur to me that there was something wrong till I lost someone. Till my fears became a reality and all I had hoped to avoid became my down fall. Like all good lesson, in hindsight, I began to see the error in my ways. I began to notice what I was doing to myself and to the people close to me. The people that hurt me and left me. The people that helped to create, the machine I can be. Those people don’t know and don’t care. They have all moved on with their lives, leaving me in the past waiting. This was my enlightenment. This was my salvation. Because they had moved on so should I. There is nothing wrong with being analytical. There is nothing wrong with protecting yourself from painful situations. There is, however, something wrong with reliving those problems. And I have no interesting in living in that place.

Have I been cured of my shortcoming? Heavens no. But I am now more aware of it. And that my dear friends is always the first step.