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How dare you! Out of desperation, I learned to forgive …
By Carl "JC" Pantejo – Copyright 2007
(Author "My Friend Yu – The Prosperity Mentor," Copyright August 2007. Pantejo – SN Vurce Publications.)
* Below is an excerpt from "My Friend Yu – The Prosperity Mentor: Book II. Release Date: December 2007/January 2008. Pantejo – Publications Vurce Yes
My girlfriend did it again! Here I am, at home waiting and wondering where is – again, more and more angry by the minute. Do not you know I hate waiting for anyone? Do not know which is a blatant act of failure of respect for me when she is late, especially at the end without any explanation? How dare you do this to me! "I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired! "That is all. gon'na I give up.
Besides, I have no trouble finding new friends. It's easy for me. Only turn on the charm, flash a smile, shyly simulate, imitate the body language, maneuvering in a moment of union (and surprisingly intimate) conversation listen carefully, and presto chango, a new lover is queued.
It never fails. As soon as the body language is reciprocated, I know I've found my following potential romance.
It's just … well, I really love my girlfriend and I always miss him so bad when we are apart.
I've been worried angry, lonely and depressed during the last hours. Why do I feel so bad? Why these situations (being alone, feeling neglected and unappreciated) always out the worst in me?
Is it because of my past?
In early adolescence, the relationship of departure was a piece of cake. I was athletic, tan growth of Asia in the land where brown skin and a fit body were (and still is) hot commodity – the United States.
But relations support was always a great challenge for me. Sooner or later, the grass always looks greener.
I had the ability to be the ultimate shape-shifting. As a chameleon, I would like to change personalities, behaviors, languages, and sometimes, appearances in the willingness to adapt to any social situation – or appeal any appetite for women in particular.
In love, I had played – no, he had "been" – all features (eg, the romantic hardened, loyal best friend / lover, playboy, anger "in the world" bad boy, the traditional husband, the mystery man, the "open book" intellectual, artist, athlete, businessman, etc..) Your name and the type that could produce an award-winning fax. And with each new relationship that had learned (and) became "the man of her dreams."
But none of these features may hold a marriage and / or relationship of any length of time.
Confusion. Why can not I just be "happy" in a relationship long term? I did everything right. There checked all the necessary blocks, have almost all the qualities to be any women "catch of the century."
Initially, in each relationship, for meet and explore new like women and do not like always an exciting journey for me. And the "love, gooey" was especially delicious stage (ie the sparkle in the eyes, the gentle hand squeeze, his head on his shoulder, the gentle half-smile, and intimacies endless other between two lovers). I love the new change for the better differently with each new and unique relationship.
To be honest, I think I loved being in love – a kind of addicted to love "," wobbles on the fine line between romance and chivalry of the ugly practices of sexual predators.
Do not get me wrong. Through the years who have committed almost all the missteps adulthood possible. I've been married three times, divorced three times, and honestly can not count how many relationships I've had in the middle.
Of course, there was always a reason "and justifiable" reason for every tear (for example, have to work away from home, infidelity, chronic patterns of abandonment, loneliness, boredom, lies, financial irresponsibility, etc.).
And anyway, I always ended up looking like the "good" sacrificing the good heart and soul with the misfortune to be paired with the wrong woman.
But after all these years and relationships, my own pattern was emerging. Then it dawned on me. Could it be that I am the cause of these failures relationship?
After my military career ended in retirement, started a new life. Or so I thought …
So far, I've never left my own experience and tried to observe the current situation. I am alone. I have a lot of time. Why not, finally explore the true motives, feelings and fears behind my misery?
Hell, thinking about these things quickly gives me a headache. I wonder if there is any beer in the fridge? No, I only get angry and depressed if I started drinking in this confused state.
Oh screw, just a couple of beers to relax … …
… .. Well, I inhaled a six pack in the last two hours and what will it help? Am just got another cycle of uncontrollable anger, depression, loneliness and tears. I'm really sick of it. Why I feel so bad?
I remember my childhood and it hurts.
I always remember being out of place at school (too young, too smart, too much of Asia, and only very). Racism was alive and well in New England during the 1960s. And discrimination in South Florida from the 1970s was worse. I was ridiculed for my eyes either torn, or brown skin, or simply ignored, "Invisible" – gray in a "black and white" world.
And I was fat. Not only chubby or fat baby-cute, I was fat.
I blamed my parents.
In Asia, a fat child was a status symbol, a symbol of the wealth event their parents, and welcomed by all. But in the United States, overweight children are stereotyped as lazy, cowardly, comic, and / or stupid.
My parents did not understand. They acted as if he cared that I was ridiculed daily. I can not count how many times I've cried because – as my mother would say – "hoarse." Of In fact, I still remember dreading each new season of shopping for school clothes. I had to buy "husky" sizes. I was so ashamed that I was looking around the store to see if any of my friends were around before I went to the dressing rooms.
It was not until I was nine or ten years I rebelled. I refused to eat what my parents made for dinner, the choice of preparing my own meals.
Of course, this led to a long battle on options meals with my parents. I am sure that hurt her feelings many times. But I just could not stand being the weight of all fat jokes in school and other situations social.
Then I discovered sports and fitness. I played tennis for 5-6 hours a day during my summer vacation. When I went back to school half my friends did not recognize me! I literally went from the good, funny guy, the baby fat for girls in school more than deer.
The girls, oh girls! I had never before received such attention. They sprint alternative corridors or "accidentally" drop my books side just to talk to me. It was a big change to adjust.
Then, another neat thing happened. The years I spent learning on my own since their fruit. I was put in "smart boy Gifted Programs."
Funny story. One day after I got in trouble for the umpteenth time at school, my father told me he was a "special class" to meet my needs "special." I went to class for fools. When I ran for the gifted program class, I was sure it was for dumb kids. Most children seemed geeks or delayed. It was not until Professor approached me and explained the situation that I realized that all these strange-looking guys are brainiacs.
So there I was popular with the girls, an athlete and a geek. Perversely, I decided to complete my repertoire of roles and characters and made friends with a lot of acid rock, pothead friends. Surprisingly, no one hit an eye as I was with a group of one week, then socialized with a totally different during the next.
Sports, individual sports, especially me happy. I liked the idea of winning or losing on my own hand. I did not like playing sports where the results relied too much on others.
My prowess the tennis court resulted in a lot of praise. I skipped the rookie stage, ranging from beginners to tournament players in less than 8 months – all without the help of the classes. I was self taught. Like everything else you consider important in my life (ie, languages, art, science, psychology, relationships, etc), I learned better and faster by teaching myself.
Soon he had obtained some sponsorship from a couple of local stores and national courts. They give me free tennis rackets, shoes and clothing – while I kept my USTA (United States Tennis Association) State rankings high enough.
This year, I call it my "year courts, "I just knew my family get me something to do with my newfound passion for sports for Christmas. On Christmas Day, I opened forward to each Christmas.
But with every gift, I realized that my parents had no idea what made me happy. I clothes I have. I have socks. I have underwear. I have school supplies. All I got from my parents was totally alien to anything remotely like me, especially tennis.
My heart sank more and more to reach the final of the small pile of Christmas presents. The last gift was unwrapped my older sister. We had always been close. And then this Christmas we would be much closer.
The rectangular box looked like the rest of the boxes at a shirt or pants. Do not open it with any enthusiasm. But then I saw what was inside. Framed under a plastic front cover was a set of wrist bands and a headband, the kind I had to keep my hands sweat a tennis racket and eyes when I played tennis. That's when I felt like my sister was the only person in my family (and the world) who loved me enough to know what I was.
A wave of bad feeling came over me. I spent the day hiding in the locker room I did not want anyone to see me with uncontrolled seizures waves of tears.
He hated Christmas time for the next 21 years. It was not until my second marriage I've learned to feel good about Christmas. My second wife did everything possible during the holiday season (eg Christmas lights in the house, baking biscuits, dinner, Santa Claus pictures for children, etc..) Your contagious joy during the Christmas and New Year gradually taught me to enjoy a bit of joy festive.
Spending most of my life serving in the military in Asia has made it easier to deal with Christmas because most Asian countries non-Christians.
Another injury?
Now I'm thinking when I finally got my driver's license. I was so excited. It was powered by my sister DMV review of the facilities. It was assumed that the call when it was over for a walk or drive back home.
"After today, I will not have to beg a ride from my parents or sister, I thought.
I am fully prepared. Superficial physical examination, written exam and driving test was a breeze. In a couple of few hours, I was the proud owner of my first driver's license. I could almost see the look on the faces of my girlfriend when I got home that night film for our appointment.
I called my sister. No response. During the next 3 hours I alternated calling my sister and my parents. If someone responds, responses were the same, "… too busy to pick it up."
Alone, abandoned, disappointed and hurt again.
The devil. I left call and ran (in my jeans and shoes Sketcher school) house 3 miles, more and more furious with every step. By the time I got home it was dark. Everyone was home!
What a raw deal. It was supposed to be a special day and happy for me. Get my driver's license first was an achievement important in my life, but nobody bothered to pick up the installation of the DMV!
I went inside and kept my composure enough to casually say that everything went well.
Then I went to my room, grabbed a pillow from my bed and curled up in a corner of my closet. In the darkness of my room, I screamed and cried on my pillow in the next two hours.
When my mom called to my door to go to dinner, I said I was not hungry, too tired, and had to take a nap.
It was then that I realized that when it was important to me, I could not count on anyone – not even my sister. It was then undertaken to prevent these situations from ever again rely solely on myself. And from that moment, my natural independence and confidence itself became a fierce obsession.
I remember calling my girlfriend and cancellation of the date of the movie for that night. I told him he was sick. She believed me because my voice was hoarse and my nose was still dripping from the hours of violent weeping.
It is enough to recall.
I have to recover control. There must be something I can do right now.
No more tears. It is time to do something. It's time to stop wasting time and energy.
Gon'na I go online. Yes, that's all I'm going to Google the words: "Frustration, anger, jealousy, sadness and depression." … …
… … What about this? In almost every article or reference (and there are hundreds in each subject), the word "sorry" still appears as recommended step toward overcoming grief and start the healing process.
Excuse me? Why? I am the one in the "right."
She (my girlfriend) is the "wrong", right? She is the one who should apologize to me! Why does it always seem to get myself in this type of situation?
Do I have to really learn to forgive?
Uh-oh, another wave of self-pity is ready and waiting to wrap again.
Keep, keep, keep control … I need to stay focused. I have to quickly understand something about this "forgiveness" thing.
We'll see. Article explains that the article after my anger, frustration, sadness and loneliness is my own doing?
Keep reading. Huh? I have the power to learn from my current situation and grow from it? Really?
What a concept.
Thus, according to all experts, regardless of who is right or wrong, without forgiveness, I am the only one suffering! That sucks. It's like the old saying: What is more important to be right or happy?
For my own survival, I suppose I must forgive, not for anyone else, but for me. If you do not forgive my girlfriend (or any another person who has wronged me in the past), I'm letting someone else control me. What is the use of harboring anger, resentment, or jealousy? The only person who hurt me is myself. In addition, any person who has wronged me in the past will continue its normal life, regardless of how I felt.
The past is past. Why am I leaving anything to hurt me now is more, in the past?
It's like the story of two monks on the road. The two monks were supposed to avoid all intimate encounters with the opposite sex. When they came to a stream, they see a beautiful princess in traditional royal dress. Apparently, she was alone, fleeing from a suitor who abuse their parents had promised.
There were no bridges, boats, rafts or in the stream. The only way to cross turbid water was walking through the mud.
The two monks went to the princess. After evaluating the situation, the more humble monk offering a trip to Princess on his back across the stream. The other monk watched in horror as his friend failed the "no contact with the opposite sex" rule.
After reaching the other hand, the older monk leaned down and gently let the clearing princess. The princess thanked the monk for the help and offered him some gold coins. The monk declined the offer, saying the money would be better spent to help her escape from danger and a lifetime of unhappiness.
For miles (and hours) the two monks walking in silence.
Suddenly, the younger monk snapped: "You know it's not supposed to touch women, why did I?"
The elder monk turned to the young monk and said only: "Dude, I made a choice, acted in the best choice I could think, so I put down the Princess across the stream – long hours and many miles. Why are you still carrying her?
Why am I still in pain last (s) in this?
It is time to do something to make me feel better.
Hmmm … interesting. Contrary to popular belief, I can not forgive in silence, remotely, ie is not necessary to physically meet and say "I forgive you" to all the people who think they should be forgiven in my life.
What do I have to lose? Here goes.
"Now forgive me. I sincerely forgiveness in silence and all those who have helped in the past to hurt me. I do it for me, not the criminals. "
Wow, this feels weird. It is hard to do. I'm so used to carrying around my own, as the 65-pound backpack full invisible of bad memories. It is so familiar and so hard to let go – no matter what my rational mind notes.
Only I have to let go. I can not move forward until I let go where I am now.
"Now let me go. I give the gift of forgiveness now. I forgive myself for being less than what I am capable of being. I forgive all others. Now I know everyone (including me) is simply doing the best they can with the knowledge and experience they have. "
Thinking about my "Crying Christmas" I realize that my parents did what they thought was best. They were the former Asia. They did not believe in wasting precious work or study in time sports, art, music, or anything that modern Americans consider recreation to "re-creation."
My parents came from humble backgrounds, so everyone thought was at school and work. It was not until he became rich and somewhat "Americanized", they began to enjoy leisure activities.
I forgive them. In retrospect, I've been thankful for having parents who could buy and give me Christmas gifts, while other children around the world had no food or shoes.
And I forgive myself for continuing to react as a pre-teen hurt when someone does not know what I like. No one, however close he or she may be, you can expect to read my mind.
It is my responsibility to express my likes and dislikes clearly understood until the people closest to me. Also I have to accept that often meet with disagreements – And it's fine.
You can always be different, better.
I'm still very independent. But now is different. Understanding a bit about your foundation and contributing factors has made a desperate stress away. It's a personal choice to be independent, not an unconscious and uncontrollable obsession.
We make choices. We act on the best options we can imagine. But unlike the monks, many of us have things, heavy things around with us from the past.
It's over. Get over it.
"It's over. I choose to forgive. I vividly re-experienced some wounds of the past buried in my psyche. I gave them their own space to be. I can take its course properly. Made. Now they can move forward. I let them go.
The idea of passing easily unharassed through my mind now. They evoke no strong feelings. Now I can remember them as an observer, not as an active participant. No bad feelings, no more drama think about them. I feel much lighter now.
I refuse to allow past feelings of anger, resentment and betrayal affect my present (and future) happiness. I'm over it. "
What is that sound? Oh, it's my ring tone mobile phone SMS.
Thank God my girlfriend: "Honey, I'm sorry. Be Home Soon. I miss you. Love, Kai" …
Carl "JC" Pantejo
Pantejo@ynvurcepublishing.com
About the Author
About the Author:
He is a retired U.S. Military veteran. Believing that school was too boring, he dropped out of High School early; only to earn an A.A., B.S., and MBA in less than 4 years much later in life – while working full-time as a Navy/Marine Corps Medic. In spite of a fear of heights and deep water, he free-fall parachuted out of airplanes and performed diving ops in very deep, open ocean water. He went to Thailand 1 year ago for a week’s vacation, fell into a teaching job, and has never left!
Carl “J.C.” Pantejo
Pantejo@ynvurcepublishing.com
Founder, Y.N. Vurce Publishing
http://www.ynvurcepublishing.com
Momentazos Antena Paranoica 105