Positivity?..Possibly

Let's talk about something positive. Like puppies and kittens. Or rainbows and unicorns. That's positive, right?

Ha! Who am I kidding? I don't do positive. I've done all sorts of self-help, and the fact is, I can find the worst in just about anything. I never thought anyone could top me until I met my husband. He hates people. Not any person in particular, just people in general. After being with him for eight years, I'm starting to see his point.

Would we humans devolve into anarchy and chaos if there were no laws to protect us, no "common sense" to guide us, no morality, no rules, no religion?

I studied philosophy, in fact, I minored in it in college, and I still debate this question. Are people inherently good or evil? Or both? Or neither?

Putting aside the extreme cases, look at how we interact on a daily basis. Commuting on the highway. Vying to be first in the checkout lane. Office politics. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. In the long run, do any of those things even matter? Will I worry about which parking spot I got at the grocery store at age 30 when I'm 80? Hell no.

This could be a very subjective question, one based on where and when you are born and raised. How much of our personalities is determined by nature versus nurture?

An example for contemplation: My maternal grandmother was a foster mom to countless children. Many of the children who grew up alongside my mom were from abusive homes, and I don't mean normal abusive. I mean literally treating a child like a dog, complete with leash, bowl, and sleeping on the porch. The boy in question grew up to be a lawyer, a father, and a husband. He's very successful, and recently took my parents out on his yacht. How do you account for that? He says it was my grandmother, but others came through her house and did not turn out that well.

Another case in point, my neices. Three are from broken homes. Two are "good" girls and one's a "bad" girl. Their circumstances are largely the same, so why did one end up in a "home" for girls miles away from her family because she was deemed a bad influence on her younger siblings while the other two could have their pick of any boy (or girl) and any college they want?

I wonder these things about my daughter. How will she end up? Even if James and I stay together, even if we give her the best possible upbringing, what will she do with her life? She's so bloody fucking headstrong, even at three years old. Will she do everything in her power to test us? Will she specifically look for ways to hurt herself, or us, or both?

In other words, will she be like me?

And anyway, what's wrong with me? I've done some horrible shit, some things I won't go into now. Some things my seventeen year old self would NEVER in a million years have thought possible.

In my darkest moments, which I'm sorry to say have been numerous, though not recent, I've wondered why any of it matters. Why do we strive toward anything at all? Aren't we all just matter? Just atoms moving about, making minimal impressions in the grand scheme of things? When you look at things from the earth's perspective, aren't we insignificant? Doesn't an ant think it's own life is pretty darned important?

I learned about the history of our planet in theology. Yes, theology. I'm pretty sure my professor's intention was not to prompt me to contemplate the human race's insignificance, but it did. Our planet is so old, and, yet, it's young compared to the universe. So, what does that make us? If we are barely a blip on the universe's map, what is our purpose in existing at all?

I was raised a Catholic, but my problem is that I question, and, therefore, I am. I have so many questions, and Jesus doesn't give me answers. Only riddles; mysteries. I am supposed to have faith that my life has a purpose. Unfortunately, I wasn't born with oodles of patience or faith.

The reason I toyed with suicide so much was because I didn't believe my life had any purpose. But, the will to survive is instinctual, and I couldn't fight it. Believe me, I tried.

I didn't think my life had purpose until I had Maya. When she came into the world, when I brought her into the world from my own flesh, my own agony, I realized that she is my purpose. Even if it's only to continue our species (which it's not), bringing her life into the world and raising her to the best of my ability is my life's purpose. And, I'm okay with that. Because she is who she is, and she will be who she chooses to be, and her life may bring new life or impact other lives in a meaningful way.

She is not, nor will she ever be, nothing. And neither am I. And neither are you. We are important. I don't know why or how. I don't know why other people suffer and die. But I'm dying every day. And so is she. And so are you.

We live. We breathe. Every day, our lives touch others, whether positively or negatively. Then we die, and our deaths mean something to someone. Not just someone, but the people whose lives we have touched. 

And that means something.

Doesn't it?