Confusion By Contentment – The Naive Idealism of Systematics

Before my venture, life was a tug of war. It always in the end felt likee a tug of war with myself. We all have lives that content are not truly happy. We alll feel like the things we have are taken for granted when we start wishing for the things that we have which becomes a resentment thaat if only we did something to chancge it, we can make it happen. The snow ball effect that this has becomes the double edge sword that keeps us from leaving a place of contentment and happiness. Fear is one of the main factors that become the wedge between achieving the two totally opposite definitions as being content means setting and happy means the genuine feeling of appreciation for the life and person you ar. Those who have the intention of making you feel bad about your life tend to use the tings that you don’t have as they graciously make the effort to throw the things that you have in your face. If that honest work they end up using their accomplishments to measure why you are not happy. Then turns into the insulting a belittling tactic to make you lhat the things you have not gain are the reasons why you don’t matter or why your stupid or why you’re naive. Then again the same thing happens when a person gains growth where those happy wanting to see the things that once stopped them can go once they are ready. Where the way I always perceived in my situations seeing the things that I started expecting of myself catch me off guard and actually was just the fear I had of not being able to achieve. Where not emotionally ready then made me emotionally ready at that moment. Which in my background is a lot as the limits that limited myself from what is the minimum expectation to regular social norms, ended up exceed above that limited expectation. Both my grandmothers did just that. Coming from an origin that at the time didn’t have running water. That the shower was bathing from a tin, and that a meal that was not rice and beans would be once every month. And leaving that behind was although scary became the only way they felt they could exceed their own expectations. That regardless of the cruelness that came in the situation. To a different culture naive of the things that they initially was taken advantage in their vulnerability, became the fight song that is my lineage. We may not have much but independently and without no help, my abuela’s both single handedly made a life for themselves regardless of the tragedy that become unfairness, discrimination, sexual assault, physical assault, domestic violence which in turn made opportunities for the next generations that followed. Because back in those days the help they were denied was a misperception from a lie American culture claimed to believe truth back 1940’s that Latin American Immigrants came into the United States loaded. And that the suffering they were forced to endure was their doing since they wanted to be selfish. Where the men gave them a false perception of

safety, and that the things they made for themselves was enough for them as they ended doing these things for themselves. Makes my paternal grandmother still 85 and thriving, although I may have been wrongfully taken the life that I worked hard for due to to same culture since discrimination, sexual harassment, sexual assault, and retaliation; all the sins committed to me in the workplace mind you, regardless of the illness and the doubt and the verbal abuse intentionally thrown my way; the proudest grandmother alive. As unfortunately my maternal grandmother put in a rest home as almost dropping out of high school due to a few of my aunts demands to assure no one had to take care of her was the potential reason the pep talk she gave me, saying to never be like the “culebras” which are snakes and go against the things she taught us as she considered me her daughter. Where fighting as hard for your life is one factor that will assure my happiness. And taking the easy way out in our culture is by not proving to yourself what you are single handedly able to do as bending the knee and kissing the ring to someone who has financial means will make me into a dishonorable person. Since already proven that the pursuit of financial rewards that now a “curse” will be the reason why I turned in her anger, fear, and sorrow the evil and two faced whores that my aunts are as she beat herself up for the things she didn’t do to make them better people. Where before she was put in hospice had a moment where she could not talk ended up talking with me, which I thought I was dreaming. Where she told me that forgiveness is hard but it must be done. That the things I have done is only just the beginning as she, proud of the person I became was going to become someone that her and I never expected. That in the mist of the uncertainty, I was going to be able to be an example someday And whatever happens it was okay, because in the end I was going to know who not only survive, but live. She was right. Where for the first time in my content life. I am truly happy. Not because of the financial advantage as it always becomes temporary if your not born into it. But because even if the same fate that happened in Houston, TX when the mold infection had me hanging by a thread, life experience and the accomplishments I achieved as I have already exceeded expectations. And the one thing that win or lose is, at least I tried to do my part to make things right in this world. Not by the things I know. But by the things not only passed on to me by my family lineage, but the things passed on with much gratitude the family lineages I was adopted into.

When I first started this blog, I wrote a “Fuck you” message that I still kept in this same blog. One thing that those quick to belittle all say one thing about my view of things. That I am an angry person. Well partially true, as human as we are, we all get angry. But anger does’t define my motive. I am not looking to get revenge or hurt anyone intentionally. I might hurt people’s feelings along the way as they won’t want to admit the things that they see in error. But doesn’t make them a better person by intentionally hurting me back. In addition it doesn’t give them the right to take it upon themselves to follow through with the actions that assured they don’t dodge the accountability they caused but then expect compassion when they are faced with the same turmoil. Which essence is why the things you expect is something you must be willing to earn as life, still trying to fight for a fair chance with the things that I can’t control by still controlling the things within my power is still something that I fight for. Because when the things you control still don’t change what’s stopping you just to be able to return back to work as a regular person would is the reason why many in the COVID era have faced impeccable doom by the inability to work that led them homeless. Because life being around all walks of life and events like pandemics, natural disasters, and terrosim are the reasons why when coming out of the ashes puts many in a situation that affects their overall being. Realizing that the expectations from entitlement make those realize that they truly are on their own. Which after the original response is where you will see my rational come to light.

Although my grandmothers and all those who have adopted me into their family all admitted to one thing, they were never perfect. Because they all had a stigma or action caused by the stigma that they all agreed on. In addition to that those open about their situation and confided that I wouldn’t judge them on being a bad person also said the cruel things they did for the sake of surviving. So with that said, as I know many of you trying to find the imperfection I am going to say this “Fuck you. You judgey cunty shit for brains asshole.” Despite of your inferiority complex, you are not perfect either. And just because you don’t remember doesn’t make you any better or righteous. It makes you pathetic. As the things you purposely don’t remember come out of convenience. And if are called out by the people that know who you are which life has always showed me happens all too often, makes you worst. Because the truth is you intentionally and purposely are finding ways to justify your behavior in turn enabling the bad behavior as judging someone already has proven you’re not better than anyone else. It makes you worst because you’re naive to think the things that you are positive won’t happen is “fake news” as it’s been proven already in national media which I still empathize because those who should have know better and those who failed to tell him the expectations did not tell him the worst case scenario as I am sure it was out of selfish motive. Because the truth is the things no one cared enough to be truthful with him could of prevented this now conditioned behavior that may cost him his entire career. Because if someone cared would not tell you what you want to hear they would tell what you need to know. The good, the bad, and the ugly to make you into a better person. Because when shit hits the fan and things by the things you did based on the history of the things you have done before will show how shitty of a person you are. And because you didn’t consider that one question as to how it will affect you? It wasn’t how it was going to affect you? The question that was true question you had it ask, it should have been when?

For the longest time my misfortune was slowly becoming compassion for ignorant minds. Always as a kid wondering why things were different for me than those that were premeditated not to succeed is where is the premises of my growth came. Living with an incurable infection made me look back at all the stigmatics that was systematic racism. Where poverty and disease being “that is not my problem” showed the personal choice to degrade and common believes that “I shouldn’t be responsible for someone else” to the extreme belief when it came to those with HIV/AIDS were thought to believe “they all should die” turns into a silent resentment by those oppressed. In hindsight once those stricken in this burden like financial hardship that COVID has induced makes those who now entitled to think they believe help is deserved in some cases are not made worthy enough to gain help puts that line of separation that those get, still filled with gratitude begin to temporarily do the right thing and go back to bad habits. Which in hindsight become issues that never get a full resolutions for the potential traumas to come. One which work place trauma made to believe doesn’t happen, is something more common that the blind eye turns with the same “it’s not my problem” attitude. Truth is my family doesn’t that to me to this very day. Still having compassion, forgetting the same result I have gotten for the last 3 years when this first developed, had a bandaid cover the complete problem and then resurface having them say “it’s not my problem” when blaming my irresponsibility for the things that I am willing to do become the same result just having a prescription of antibiotics be given, which in turn can cause an immunity to antibiotics that can become the worst thing anyone can face. An attack by super viruses. Which the care they give, made as an enabler to keep me from working and the frustration of the inability to bend the knee and kiss the ring becomes a feeling of inferiority taking my persistence as a thought that is untrue “you think your better than me” which is why writing is my savior in this unfortunate doom I didn’t ask for. Where the judgment and the looks of disgust come from the infection at it’s most violent when skin infections by the continuous discharge appear regardless of the constant hygiene that is taken where it goes from a standard to a 5 times a day routine to attempt to prevent the worst from happening. Where my body inflicted with the most severe and various pain is something I take with a smile even if it’s unfamiliar pain I never felt that sometimes get hard to describe. That in every pause in writing I see things differently because of dreams and reactions that play out when asked how am I feeling. And the response of helplessness that is expressed that my grandmother fighting back tears turns my hopelessness into frustration says “I’m going to die like this so might as well get use to it” because in hindsight it’s truth. That no matter what the world will not see things rationally and for what they are. Those belittling me saying I need to apply for disability which I don’t qualify for and something that I refuse to do as I still have hope that I will eventually get a grasp at. Where not contagious as those I’ve been around never got this unfortunate condition but those who know blame everything that even though self induced like my friend booted off the middle class island has become a drug addict that because of the drug he does is the reason why he gets sick. And that to avoid judgement and work peacefully to try to make a living is the reason why driving at night is the best way to just put food on the table. Since writing is not paying the bills well enough to do as work entirely. It keeps me at peace with the things that for a moment I don’t understand, but gain clarity after analyzing things that was told to me that was my worst quality. Because truth is the change that we all don’t see has one important factor as to why it never will be. The ugly truth is as small as we see ourselves, all have an impact as to why it never happens. Because at one point, I was naive to think I couldn’t make a difference.

Published by Frieda Lopez at Frieda the Writer

Frieda López is the writer for Journey of an Unraveled Road who was born and raised in San Antonio, TX. Through her professional career in Customer Relations and Retail Management, she has utilized her experience and interactions with the behavioral patterns, which was used to start her personal journey with Journey of A Unraveled Road as her debut novel. She has completed philosophy, psychology, and theology courses at San Antonio College as well as creative writing courses. Frieda López has been a lifelong writer since 2nd grade. A survivor of childhood trauma, childhood abuse, and domestic violence, she wrote this piece, which started this book as her personal journey; works from home in San Antonio, TX.

error: Content is protected !!