"After doing what is right, life is still complicated" Ghosted, by Rosie Walsh
It seems my life is littered with a thousand of "right" choices, all of which put me on the path to an even more complicated life.
The more choices that I made that were dissimilar to others, the more complicated it can get.
Each new boundary sets me aside.
I become even more different, weird, unique and an anomaly.
Perhaps not so much in the world, but within the group you were raised in.
And, among some of your peers.
What is "doing what is right"?
How do we define making the right choice?
Is there a hard and fast rule?
Is right equal to truth?
Can we clearly see the two choices, Wrong and Right?
Who gets to decide what is right or wrong?
And, isn't life complicated depending upon which choice you make.
Doing the wrong thing, often makes life more messy and hard to handle, but so does making the right one? At least for awhile.
The saying "Doing right by her/him", what does that mean?
I have continually made different choices than my family and often wonder at how they see their choices.
Certainly we both see our choices as being right.
Is there a right path and a wrong path?
Are they clearly marked?
Do they lead in a direction that will end up right or wrong?
How clear is it doing what is right?
Is it possible that inside of each of us is a place where we can know for certain, what is a right choice for us?
It feels completely right.
Are there motivators for doing what is right?
Is fear involved or love?
Do consequences matter and they must be different depending upon what we chose?
Is the right choice for fear different than the right choice for love?
Will the right way be different depending upon how much fear you feel or how desperate you want love?
Can it be that we create what is the right choice for us?
Do right choices come from religion or the laws of the land?
Do they come from our childhood teachings?
In the land of a billion choices, how will we know that we are doing the right thing?
I feel, that my choices were made for me. The Me that woke up inside of me, saw the world completely different than the self minus the Me.
If I can make this make sense.
I began to live from the inside out.
The decisions were made by going deep within.
I didn't look at what would be 'kinder' for others.
I didn't research what the religion would have me do.
I didn't ask others for their opinions, or suggestions of what would be right.
I operated from instinct, feeling, heart and soul.
Something was now alive in me, and it was more important than the outside.
More important than the religious teachings of my childhood and what would please my mother or family.
It was small and had just appeared. Fragile and deathly strong.
I also knew, it would disappear, if I made a choice different than it.
This self that would disappear, would have been the end of Me and the continuation of the programmed mind.
I would have lived; but lived differently.
I would have remained in the group.
So, in my world I did the right thing.
My right thing.
The right thing as a victim of sexual abuse by my father.
And, it changed my world.
I didn't do the right thing as a daughter or sister.
I did it as Me.
I can't know how others made their choices and how they are now enjoying the life it has created.
I can only know mine.
My choice to see, hear and accept the truths of a dysfunctional family brought me to Me.
My first glance was to see me broken, wounded, and my life shattered into a million pieces. And, at the same time I was born onto a Self that I never met.
One that was separated from the group.
It had no religion.
No agenda.
It only sought the truth for Me.
I wrote many journals full of deciphering doing what is right and even the consequences of both.
Very little of my choices were made light heartedly or without knowing the grave consequences they would bring into my life.
I knew that by following this new Me, I was going against much of what I was taught and the family's unspoken rules.
And, yet I did the next right thing. Again, and again. Further complicating my life upon the already shattered landscape. Adding it seemed insult to injury. And, yet I did.
It perhaps complicated my life, but it defined me.
Refined Me even.
From the ashes of the rubble rose a Me that I am proud of.
Even if, I am standing alone separated from all my family.
I am Me.
Rest in Peace is for the living and for those doing what is right.
For you.
I am sure those who chose differently have a different peace.
A peace of being part of group.
Of being in a family.
Going with the flow.
Where is your flow going?