"Minuscule Is Good!"

Blogging Friends.... Warning. This is yet another self-serving "therapy session". Come. Sit. Have a cup of tea, coffee, soda, or just plain water. Read on as God gradually works through my life....

"Minuscule is good!

Trust me, it’s much better than thinking everything you do is important and meaningful. That is not good.” --Robert Downey Jr.

Question. Have you ever felt jealousy and envy toward somebody.... Sans even wanting what this person has?

That is pretty twisted, huh? Normal people--definitely not me--usually feel envious and jealous toward someone who is Barbie-doll thin when you struggle to lose even one pound. Correct? Normal people--definitely not me--usually feel envious and jealous of best friendships, when, growing up, you never had one. Correct? {Okay, that is me. Sorry.} Normal people--definitely not me--usually feel envious and jealous toward someone who is super intelligent when you are learning disabled. {Okay. Me again.} But.

Have you ever felt jealousy and envy toward somebody.... Sans even wanting what this person has?

Now. Where am I going with this? I have recently experienced these feelings. Guilty. As. Charged. And, not only that, but the judge sentenced me to self-inflicted prison for a while. Again. See, I possess quite the cosmic self-inflicted prison record!! {Not that I am proud of this, or anything!!} After privately holding thoughts/feelings/emotions within me, I finally let everything out last week as my understanding Mom listened. The uncontrollable tears had dammed up, and I simply talked. Let me explain. Somebody who I am in close proximity to is attending college. I will not mention her name. She is a very private individual. And here's the thing. I don't even wish to attend college!! But I cannot--cannot--feel happiness for this person. She is pursuing something important and meaningful with her life. I will not mention what. And I can't even see my writing being sold on bookstore shelves. Or Amazon, for that matter. I have felt jealous and envious of this person before. Countless times. Jealousy and envy. They are character defects of mine which I really should overcome. I know it. But, somehow, I have overcome my jealousy and envy toward her. Issue by issue by issue. Well, it has been at least three months, and I have not overcome these feelings. Because Dream has disappointed me with broken, unfulfilled promises like my half-sister or Aunt used to. Dream let me down. Oh, how I hate Dream. You know what? I should read through my private Word Document Journal entries dating back to June or July. Because that is around the time when these issues began. Or, perhaps I should look even farther back? I dealt with these issues, meanwhile deploying my best survival mechanism. I became a "mental drifter". Translation. I worked Attention Deficit Disorder {I flipped an "off" switch within my crazy head} then ran--hard!!--from these problems. And I wrote. My Life Story was worked on during this time. I sorted through thoughts/feelings/emotions. And I wrote. I believe my twain Robert Downey Jr. poems were composed during this time. I remained strong for so long until finally cracking like some hardboiled egg. And I wrote. I created my new Blog, "Minuscule is good!" during this time. Yes, the one part of my life which remained persistent through jealousy, envy, tears and mood swings. I wrote. So. Back to this self-inflicted prison. After sharing my feelings last week, you'd have thought that It would have been set free. Quite the contrary!! After sharing my feelings, remaining tears began falling like steady raindrops. I had been grappling with some seriously conflicting thoughts. I have a lot to be thankful for. A lot. And. I feel like a failure in life. I have never been much of an ambitious person. I always resided in this place called La-La Land, which, as everybody knows, lacks reality. I had some unobtainable ambitions throughout my existence. I wanted to be a pediatrician like Doctor F.  I dreamed of acting. Hollywood? Or stage acting? In Youth Group Drama years ago, I eventually got to do both!! And, an ambition which kept resurfacing within my crazy head. Like Jo March from "Little Women". Or Anne of Green Gables in the television-made films. I wanted to be an author. Well. I am now grieving the death of Dream. Like when Kelle Hampton brought her second born daughter into this world. She immediately observed that Nella has Down syndrome, and, suddenly, every dream which Kelle had envisioned for nine months shattered. But. After Dream disappointed her, Kelle picked up the pieces, and "created beautiful mosaic artwork", if you will, with Nella's life!! Not only does she love her middle child unconditionally. But Kelle also raises awareness for Down syndrome, and meets others with this birth defect. Sort of like me. Dream broke my heart. Now every time I write, I'm "creating beautiful mosaic artwork". I am picking up the pieces left over from Dream.... And my broken heart. Especially when it concerns fictional stories. But then.... After sharing my feelings last week, something insane occurred. For twain days, I lost my love of writing. Yes, you read that correctly. For twain days, I lost my love of writing. It just disappeared somehow {POOF!!} from my heart and soul. See, I had just created a Thanksgiving-themed story for "Minuscule is good!" through minor mood swings and tears. Because this thought kept flooding through my head. I just successfully turned a poem into a children's story. Why am I not published? First, I needed to write "Thanksgiving with the Pilgrims" for November's "Minuscule is good!" Blog post. And then. Somewhere along the road, it occurred. I lost my love of writing. So. After finishing "Thanksgiving with the Pilgrims", I began work on rewriting a Christmas-themed children's story. Even though it was still October. I rewrote this story for therapy. Because something within me had died along with Dream, and I wanted it back. I wanted it back. So, what did I do? I wrote. But then, for twain seemingly long days, I stopped writing the Christmas-themed story. I made every lame and stupid excuse available to avoid going back. Then, one morning, I was doing the dishes while also listening to an old Bruce Springsteen album. And it hit me that this is a self-inflicted incarceration. "I created this. Well, I served my time. I possess the power to set myself free.". Then, I wrote....