If you are single and also a woman you may have friends that tell you things like, “You shouldn’t settle for less than you deserve.”
What do I deserve?
Have you ever asked yourself that question and then tried to answer it? What would your first answer be? The number one answer I hear is, “I deserve to be happy.”
ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?
If your heart is quietly turning to mud as you slide into the mire of admitting you are not fulfilled with what you have, if your answer is “No, I’m not happy,” please know that I am elated by your misery. Miserable people love misery and it just so happens that I am often quite miserable. I am glad we understand each other.
People make me smile, you should know that too if you are reading, especially if you are miserable. If you are sad then I am going to be happy, but then what else could I be but the opposite? You don’t want to sit around being sad with more sadness do you? You want to be around someone who can cheer you up right? I am that kind of smile.
I am going to tell you a story about value because these days I write about money and I do fear that because of it my message is being lost. If you are new to reading these blogs it may help to know that 1) I carry around a yellow rubber chicken 2) I have a $10 million plan.
People think I am crazy and you know what? I consider that it is entirely possible, but I am just like most of you when it comes to feeling like I am deserving.
I deserve to be happy.
If I am crazy it should still be Ok for me to be happy?
If you think I am asking for permission to be happy I promise you that I am not. HAPPINESS is my right of pursuit as an American. I have the right and that’s the tricky part about diversity. What if my happiness causes the opposite to be true in someone else? What if that person somehow needs my failure in order to be happy themselves? Who should have the right to HAPPY then, if we are all deserving?
YOUR HAPPINESS VS. MINE
THE MILLIONAIRE VS. POOR ME
Once upon a time when I was at my lowest I came to consider taking my own life. I was again at the edge of suicide and I say again because it has been attempted in a previous life. That life gave me endless tears and constant begging, “Please, please someone help me.” I was so sad and broken that even my family was kicking me off or at least that is how I felt to be alone in suffering. “Why won’t any one help me!” I curled into a fetal fetus wishing to be saved from my own existence.
“Why!” I yelled out to no one. “Why am I even here?”
I cried out to God, “Please God. Please God you need to help me.”
God wasn’t there.
I cried out louder, this time with anger and rage and hate, “God dammit God I need you. F*ck please why am I here in this place.”
The devil answered instead, and it wasn’t the kind most of you imagine. The devil came by reality of death. He gave me what I was asking for and that is a picture of hell. He gave me the sight to see my own face rotting after life has been removed, keeping my eyes in skull long enough to see the agony of pain my absence would cause. “I can give you death by suicide.” The world without me was weeping, the world that knew me before I left them hell. Hell is suffering on earth. The devil gave me that gift before God whispered in my ear.
“Hey,” came my own voice whispering . “Why are you crying Amber? Are you crazy or something? That’s energy you are wasting. Do you have energy to waste? You are yelling out to nothing for help and then asking God to be real. Do you want God to be real?”
I sat there in my own thoughts looking out and into a world that is cold. I mean literally. I was cold in that moment of reckoning because I had just been punched in the face by my ex-boyfriend for calling him a rapist in front of his homies. I was seventeen years old. I want you to understand that as you are reading. These moments I am sharing really happened, just as my life has already had many endings.
This new beginning had me so sad that I could not see hope. I was wanted by the law for refusing to comply with a program I couldn’t agree with. YOUTH AT RISK. I was a seventeen year old runaway with blood running down my face and I was alone in a big city, crunched into a little ball, praying for life and death at the same time.
“Yes,” I said to myself. “I want God to be real.”
“Why?” my own mind insisted that I answer, but I couldn’t so I cried harder. I sobbed until all at once there were no tears. There was nothing inside except for peace and warmth. I didn’t feel empty, that is what I thought it was at first, the space that had come to know my center. I felt full. I felt so full of space that it scared me, but it was space occupied by my own power.
“I want to believe in God because I don’t want to be alone,” I said to the air which was listening.
“You are not alone Amber. You are loved by all who know you.”
I couldn’t argue with true reason, but I wanted more.
“I want to believe in God because I want to know my life has a purpose.” I persisted to have all of life’s answers.
God did not disappoint me.
“You are sitting here child. I put you into life to be raped and molested. I allowed you to be hurt when you were too innocent to even know that wrong was happening so that you can know what wrong is. How did it feel when that guy punched you in the face today? The guy you thanked me for because he stole your heart. “Thank You God.” You love him right? Even though you are broken up; Of course you do because I want you to be loving, but don’t be stupid. Do you think I wanted your heart to be stolen? Do you think I want this life for you? Look at where you are right now, sitting in an alley like a stray without a home. Why aren’t you home?”
“I don’t have a loving home to go to God. I am a stray remember. You gave me more obstacles that molestation. You gave me anger and rage and fear to overcome. I can’t find a safe place to be and I keep trying.” I felt my spirit start to dip, but then my breath kept me sailing.
“You are safe right here aren’t you?” God’s voice meant to mock me, but he was right. An alley in Tacoma was not the greatest shelter, but it was shelter.
“Yes, I am safe.” I admitted.
“Good.” said he.
I felt a smile growing inside of my soul. God continued on as my voice, “We now have a place to start. Right here in this moment you are safe and you are not alone. You believe in me so I am real. Now let me help you with purpose. Purpose is something people look to find in the future and I know you are struggling to see farther than an hour more of life. Let me help you. Suicide…You called out for me because you are ready to die at seventeen and I can’t say that I blame you. I remember when you tried to meet me at fifteen. I thought you were going to choose to start over then, after you swallowed those pills, but it won’t be what you think is coming. The reality of what death is can not be what you expect. You were wise to stay here on earth. I do have a purpose for you and because you reach so far for depth of understanding, I am going to tell you that your job is the simplest there is, and if you can find the courage to allow it every dream you dream will be happy.
We came to an agreement then and more than a decade later I will tell you that I some times lose sight of it. On the day I chose to believe in God he told me that I was born with the greatest gift he could have given anyone. He told me that my only purpose in life is to share my gift with as many people as I can.
My purpose in life…
“I want you to wake up each and every day with one goal Amber. I want you to greet the day with a smile and I want you to share it. Share your smile with everyone, especially those who do not deserve it. If there are undeserving in this world, remember my name and know that I allowed it. Know your power the same way. I gave you your smile to light the way.”