My journey into reality

A new day a new blog, and yet there is so much to discuss and reveal.  I should start with the basics as every great story starts with an introduction.  I have tasted failure on many levels from business, poker, school, women and more...yet I have learned some life lessons over the course of 31 years.  Reality is based solely on the premise of truly caring what others think about your life.  For many years I was tortured with fear and anxiety over how others viewed me or if I was good enough. 




The fear of acceptance by people I don't know has paralyzed my life in so many ways it makes me sick to my stomach to consider it.  It all started back in elementary school when I would attention seek by faking injuries to end up in the nurses office or get sent home.  My mother...where do we begin.  First off I call her Liz, yes it is odd but my mother though she "raised" me until I was 14 years old was never much of a mother to me.  I have wracked my brain for just 1 good memory or fun time I had when I was with her and I can honestly say I have not 1 good memory of any time spent with her.  I have spent my life putting labels on people though fearing being labeled myself.  For me life is basically black and white, good or bad, and people are typically able to be put in two catagories:  Takers and Givers.  Takers will seek out your company, friendship, and time only for self servicing.  Their sly smiles cover up their negative intentions be it to extract from you time, money, empathy, or something more sinister.  Givers on the other hand will allow you to be a part of their life, share with you their successes, while always championing yours as well.  My mother is a taker, in every sense of the word she has not at any point in her life done anything altruistic.

I have debated the pretense of nothing being altruistic in this life though frankly a warm fuzzy feeling for doing good things for others should not discount it as being selfish.  My mother was the type of woman who would extend her arms to give you a hug and just before you reached her she would punch you in the face.  This is not a metaphore speaking to thinking, this is how she truly treated her children.  My favorite recent memory of my mother involves her raising a Yorki for over 10years only to open the door and kick him out when husband number 4 came into her life and wanted to get rid of the dog.  It is ironic how that story symbolizes the very way she has raised her children. 

My intentions of this blog are vast and include many areas of my life experience.  I do feel as though we have to touch on the past to move forward and grow together in the future.  I will continue to shovel off the dirt from my past and reveal the underlying reasons for who I am.

Until the next time,

Cant.