February of 2013. That was the last time I looked at this blog. A six month adventure has turned into a 3 year (this December) ordeal. In this time I've grown closer to God, farther from seemingly everyone else in my life, and have reached a stalemate with my grandmother. If I seem down, its probably because I feel a bit defeated. The rain is coming down in front of me -- literally and I feel the same way inside. These are the hard times. The point of this blog was to get me through the happy, sad, funny and tragic. Happy and funny come easy. Sad and tragic, well that's a bit harder to express -- on a public forum to people who could care less or care too much.
My grandmother is tough. She's cold. Quite frankly she can be quite the pain in my ass. But, who isn't? I know I'm a pain. I can be tough and I can be quite cold when I want to be (and even sometimes when I don't want to be). In my yoga teacher training (which I completed about two weeks ago but now feels like 2 years ago), we learned about karma. Stored up karma, karma in your present life, karma in your future lives. Perhaps this is mine. Learning how to deal with someone as hardheaded as I am. Feeling what it's like and gaining new insight on the love and patience it must have taken for those who have been apart of my life to "deal" with me.
In the training we also learned about personalities using an enneagram test. Initially, I ranked tied with a 7 (the adventurer) and a 9 (the mediator). When my teacher described the different types of personalities I pegged my father and grandmother as an 8 (the warrior). These personalities (when unbalanced) are dominant, they have a 'my way or the highway' attitude and when they are in attack mode -- well you better watch out! Our teacher told us the exam we took was an initial one and if we'd like to go deeper, we could meet with her separately....so I did. Well, surprisingly, I discovered I was actually a 7 and an 8. It seems I too, am a warrior.
The warrior personality is developed through hurt. A serious injustice that was enacted upon you which shifts the manner in which you approach people, situations --- life in general. You hurt them before they can hurt you. You bring a grenade to a fire fight. You put on an armor and you wait for the shoe to drop and war to start. "But Mish, that's so not you." some would say. While others, unfortunately, are reading this and just nodding their head. To those, who are probably still mending war wounds as a result of my actions, I say I'm sorry again and again and again. While I didn't have a label of "warrior" to use, I knew there were things I wanted to change about me. Things that were unsettling and so I began to address it, I made a real effort to see what was wrong and how I could be a better me. That journey started years ago and has truly enhanced my life in so many beautiful ways. But, that's the thing about this journey called life. It's a journey. And so, there will always be something new to challenge us. A new opportunity to use what we've learned and apply it so that we can move to a new level of living our best life. This sounds amazing and fun, but its anything but most times. See, my inherent nature is to protect myself. To make sure I'm not hurt, like ever. Because feeling hurt can paralyze me. This takes me back to my grandmother...
I'm a warrior living with a warrior. I am trying to provide, love and guide her in the best way I know how without losing myself in the process. I am looking at 32 in a short few months and I have dreams of a secure financial future, an amazing husband, and cute as a button bilingual children. So, I find myself working on my budding conversational English company, tending to Mama, attempting to maintain contact with the outside world and tending to the house. Everything, obviously, is done half heartedly because while I'm doing one thing the other is being neglected. I don't have a social life past liking things on Facebook and Instagram, and attending my weekly yoga and English classes. So my dreams are feeling more and more like that -- dreams.
Then, on the day I graduated with my yoga teaching certificate, my grandmother ended up in the hospital. I was none the wiser until my father told me the next day. Apparently she told her neighbor not to call me because she knew I was graduating. She took the dog for a walk, felt dizzy and rushed home, only to fall flat on her face in the middle of the living room. She had a medical alert bracelet on her arm that she could have used but instead the prideful warrior attempted to lift herself up (unsuccessfully). Thankfully, a neighbor came by for one of her daily visits and helped her up. They then took her to the hospital to tend to her bruises and to make sure there were no further injuries (thankfully there weren't).
Since that incident I decided things had to change, so I started looking for a cleaning lady -- which led me to find a great free town program that is offered to the elderly. In this program they are picked up in the mornings and dropped off in the afternoons. They are fed breakfast, lunch and a snack, they play games, listen to music, and do a whole slew of activities. It's like school for old folks lol. The place is beautiful and nicely maintained. My parents (who were visiting) and I made an appointment with them so that my grandmother could see the place and hopefully give it a chance. Well, we didn't get that far. She vehemently refused to even visit. I was pissed. I was hurt. I was sad.
I can now see, though, that I was so angry because I was thinking about myself. What a relief this would be for me both mentally and physically. How perfect this would work with my schedule and how this would free me a bit more to start laying the groundwork for my own life. Me, my, I. So, when she was adamant about her position, I took it personally. How could she be so rude? How could she not even consider this, knowing how helpful this would be for me? Doesn't she care about me and my feelings? Doesn't she want to see me happy?! I wanted to book a flight on the first thing smoking and leave her proud warrior ass in the dust. In the past, I probably would have. But, I know better now and so I have to deal. I still have a heavy heart. I am still displeased with her and quite frankly don't even want to be nice to her, but I know that I have to figure it out. I have to break out of my own warrior shell and find that thoughtful wife and loving mother that I hope to be one day. This is truly one of the hardest things I've had to do...not sudsy butt crack washing or dog piss cleaning. ..but this --- going against the very grain of who I am and loving and being gentle towards someone who has disappointed and hurt me so much that I don't even want to look at much less talk to.
Today the cleaning lady came for an orientation before she begins on Monday. I couldn't help but notice that as she was leaving, Mama mumbled "Buena suerte" (good luck) under her breath. And so, it seems, the adventure continues...
