Tuesday, November 1, 2016




I have spent a lifetime reinventing myself. I have always felt the need to improve on who I am and what I stand for within society. I have always wondered among the millions that get up each and every morning once they are greeted by the obnoxious buzzing of their alarm then stumble to the bathroom, flick on the light, if they are fearful of what is staring back at them?

Do these millions of people get ready for work only to head to a company that they secretly loath or is there chosen job, profession that they can hardly wait to get to?

Does the mailman absolutely adore getting up each and every morning, drive to the post office to sit and sort out the hundreds if  not thousands of pieces of mail then pack it up, battle the traffic, battle the dogs that viciously want to attack, or the people standing impatiently by their mailboxes in hopes of receiving a check to get them by yet another week. Do they enjoy stuffing the countless mailboxes with junk mail, flyers, walking miles and miles only to be so excited to be the postman for that neighborhood? Was that this person's dream job?

How about the old beaten down lady we see pushing a cart around within motels and hotels that we stay in. We can see the hunched shoulders, the wrinkled face and hands. Her tired eyes, she aches as she scrubs toilets and tubs. Was this her dream job or was it just a job working her fifty hours a week to put food on the table? Does she ever dream of a different job, a job that will bring not only self gratification but respect among herself and family?

I have shared how my mother completed a map of my life in which my brother had no problem following setting himself up for great success. But for me, it seemed to be a foreign language. I could of had a kindergartner draw me a map, give me a make shift flashlight and still I would look at it as if they wrote the words "Follow This Map" in a foreign tongue.

Coming from a family of power and money is never easy. What may seem like Crystal on the outside could very well be broken glass on the inside. I had already wanted to stay single, I never wanted kids, I never wanted to get married, my life was my life and I was not about to share one single second with a snotty screaming baby or have to pick up the chocolate skidded underwear from a man or listen to him expelling gas from either end.

There are always conditions and rules that one must follow when you come from a family of money. The rules are one-sided and they tend to lean towards The Gate Keeper of the money.

"You will become successful and powerful and we will not accept anything less, do I make myself clear?"

That very sentence came from the actual Gate Keeper of money. The overwhelming and often daunting task of searching for success was often reinventing myself over and over.

When I came home to tell my mom I landed a job as a waitress all I heard from her was;

"Your a what? why on earth would you want to do that job? That was not part of map that we laid out for you."

I thought I could work my way up to management but after hearing how long it took to become manager, it was fruitless to even attempt trying. But after twenty plus years later of tending restaurants as a food server working in countless restaurants, I could feel failure creeping up on me. I could feel it consuming my life as my brother grew and grew beaming of success while my parents boasted with such pride speaking of him with sincere happiness. When it came to my parents speaking about my chosen job, the conversation was changed rapidly.

I have tried to earn my real estate license for years, I have tried to own and operate my own event planning company, I have tried to own a house cleaning business only to just about kill myself each day only to come home and pop pain killers daily. I have tried to achieve success financially only to hear my parents take pen to paper in the form of a check to help me financially as the grumble how they are sick and tired of doing this and wish to God I would get my head out of my ass.

I remember very clearly, about ten years ago my brother and I received two Christmas ornaments from my mom and dad. They were two sheep. My brother of course got the white sheep which symbolizes purity, the golden child, the child that could do no wrong. When I quickly opened my small box I of course pull out "The Black Sheep" I became so angry with my mom. I just stood before her and quickly asked;

"Does this symbolize me mom, am I the Black Sheep" of the family?" She just looked at me and gave me a look of confusion but then quickly turned and walked away. So what does the Black Sheep actually symbolize?

 A black sheep stands out from the flock...In the English language, the black sheep is an idiom used to describe an odd or disreputable member of a group especially within family.

If I never have ever felt less loved or appreciated for my devotion to my family, it was right then and there. I was competing for the attention my brother was getting. He knew more about the family then I ever did. He knew of my parents banking accounts, where the living will was. my parents financial income, private things I never knew about. No matter how hard I tried to get to become my brother's equal, it was as if I was taking a five thousand boulder and pushing it up Mt. Everest all by myself.

I have tried to live up to the expectations of what my family was but then I began to think...do I possess the same negative feelings my birth family had? Did my birth mom give me up for a fighting chance at success and was I not taking all what was handed to me and using it to the best of my ability? So, I turned to college, I turned to the Criminal Justice the same field as my father. I studied and graduated with honors and even with my fathers name, I couldn't land a job to save my life.

Tossing my dad's name around meant "NOTHING" in the work force all it meant was "that's good whatever, but can you work?"

After trying for one year pounding the pavement and reaching nothing but one failure after the next I decided to go back to school and study medicine. I once again graduated with honors, I was succeeding and my mom and dad were finally speaking proudly of me. I felt good, I felt like I found my purpose, and upon graduation every single job interview I went on all I heard over and over especially coming from Southern California was the most repeated question ever...

"Are you bilingual?"
"No, I am not."
"Oh, I'm sorry but you must be for this job, but good luck to you."

Why is it when one reinvents themselves over and over it just seems like failure is looming right around the corner? Was I meant to be an author, is writing my actual calling in the world today? Will I ever get noticed for my writings and do others see my writing as a place in society where I belong?

Only time will tell!