Always a choice

I have been procrastinating these few days. Not only are school holidays on now, which is a busy time, but several of us have been ill too. The real reason, however, is my resistance to face the revelation that has surfaced. It's a vulnerability thing. Perhaps you didn't know I'm human. Or perhaps you didn't think I knew I was human? Oh I know it. The emotions that have always flowed through me remind me constantly. And they are cause for the half of the population who couldn't stand Eat Pray Love to shake their head at me and want to tell me to get over myself. Oh if it were so easy!

For those people who have known me longest, they are aware of how much time and effort I have put into writing stories. Screenplays (five), an attempt at two novels, short stories, and most recently a stage play. While technically I get good scores, there are elements that are lacking. A couple of months ago I discovered it was theme, the reason behind the story. But this past week it came up again that my main characters, my protagonists, are victims, and as any writer will tell you that kind of person is boring and a fast route to a dead story. A victim has things and events happen to them, rather than making decisions to take actions, even if the results are disastrous.  This word, victim, has come up a few times for me. Do you ever get that, when something seems to keep reappearing to you, demanding attention? Even these reminders from the universe are proactive!

While I tried to grasp the definition of victim in terms of crafting character I naturally looked around my life at myself and people. What kind of behaviour do victims have? What kind of attitudes? What does their life look like? What are their habits? And the scariest question of all, do I? Could I behave like one? Are there times when my fall-back attitude is one of a victim? It couldn't be possible, could it? No, surely not, not in my pampered little world. Then one night I dreamed clearly of a horse. I was riding, and it bucked and kicked until I flew off, and then it pushed me away from it and into a river. Being a spiritual being, I looked up horse in my power animal oracle cards. The key words on the card itself are: 'Freedom. You always have a choice.' Huh. I opened the little guide book and started to read: 'Let go the illusion that you're somehow a victim. Know that you always have a choice in any and every situation. Take responsibility for the consequences of that choice, and stop holding on to any beliefs that you have to somehow suffer though or endure the circumstances of that choice. Once you fully allow this reality, you will automatically shift into experiencing greater control over your life.' How's that for a nudge?

Yesterday I was busy doing errands. I had been quite unwell the previous two days and spent them at home. All right, I wasn't really on the couch, but I did avoid housework and instead pottered in the garden and sorted through clutter that was begging to be handled. Very satisfying. But yesterday the children were with me and once again the normal demands of life returned. We had several errands to do and the list got longer as one item we needed for a birthday today was proving elusive. I can't stand shopping at the best of times, so to have to extend my list by three or four shops in different locations became tedious. Add to that the demands of children who get hungry, want to buy this, want to look over here, want their allowance, get nosebleeds in the middle of Spotlight, and then throw wobblies (temper tantrums in Aussie slang) because they can't get their way, well, you can imagine how the fun factor of a day out together wore out very quickly. Oh the woes of our first world. I can hear the sighs of the Eat Pray Love haters again.

To get to the point, as I became grumpier and grumpier about children who say no when I ask for help but still expect dinner cooked, about the possibility that I have victim tendencies, about the rest of the clutter/chores/weeds that needed attention, that the chicken for dinner was still frozen solid, and that I felt exhausted and so unwell I just wanted to sit down and quit, I realised that I was being a victim. Oh poor me. I knew if I stood at the stove and cooked I was going to resent dinner, resent the family, and myself for doing what was expected rather than looking after myself. The horse card came to mind, 'you always have a choice.' And so I closed the door to the study and plonked myself down in my chair with a cup of tea and told the girls to make themselves busy somewhere else. Seems so obvious doesn't it? I can hear echoes of 'duh'. Yes, okay I can be a slow learner. It has taken a lot of thought and attention to learn this about myself, to see that indeed when stressed I can play the victim. Yuck! That sucks! Who likes a victim? No one. And so what the heck am I role modeling to my children??? That always gets me.  Is that what divides the Eat Pray Love readers? Those who have victim tendencies love the story and those who don't hate it? So I've said it. It feels like a confession of weakness.

Am I alone in the universe who for some bizarre reason adopted this behaviour? Is it a housewife of the first world syndrome? Is it a nature/nurture thing? Societal trend? I suppose the most important question is how do I move away from it? As Brooks and Dunn say in one of my favourite songs, 'it's just a drop in the bucket till the bucket fills up.' I'll keep looking at my horse card propped up on my desk and when I start to feel that irritability come over me I will remind myself that I always have a choice. Seems so ridiculous, really. I am reading a book called "Global Woman" in which I am learning about the huge industry of imported females from third world countries to work as nannies, maids and sex workers in the first world countries, often leaving behind their own children to be raised by someone else. What strength would it take to make a decision like that? To alleviate the terrible poverty of their situation, these women choose to live and work oversease, sometimes not seeing their own children for years. Well, perhaps in starting to be more aware of my own choices I can move forward to making greater and more meaningful decisions. And then I too can become one of the impatient Eat Pray Love disdainers.