I Quit - #Studio30Plus

I Quit

This is something I fail at. I’m not good at stopping anything, while I am very good at beginning new things. What this translates to, is to make for a very busy girl.  

Oh I suppose it’s not strictly true. I no longer play any of the sports I did growing up or in high school. But even then it wasn’t throwing down my mit and storming off the field. It was, “Well the season is over…. Oh look I’m too busy to start up again in the fall”.

So let me tell you the story of how I quit sprinkles.

It’s pretty much stuck. I only had to do it once. For Lent. No, I’m not Catholic. Or Christian for that matter. But I quit sprinkles for Lent and never picked them back up again.

You see, my manager was heavily involved in his faith. Each year he would make a big production of renewing his dedication to abstinence from alcohol. He would pull out one frosty brew from the walk in freezer, set it out…. And look at it. Moreso, he left it out for the rest of us to look at as well. It was a testament of his faith that he could see it every day, and not be swayed by temptation. Of course, he also wanted us to do this as well.  I wouldn’t say I’m a militant atheist, but I’m militantly not Christian. However I do have a sense of humor. So after yet another lecture on the virtues of self-deprivation I took a deep breath, threw back my shoulders, and marched right back into the back of the shop. I hauled over the footstool to reach the bin of multi-colored sugar accessories and set it gently down on the counter. I pulled back the lid, smelling the sickly sweet scent that accompanied the release of air and gingerly pulled out five sprinkles. One in each color. After replacing the storage bin to it’s dry dock I palmed my acquisition and shuffled back out to the front of the house where my manager was tending the register. I then informed him that I would be partaking in his yearly ritual and that I too, had something to relinquish for Lent. And I threw those 5 sprinkles right in the garbage. Never to be touched again.

Did you know 5 sprinkles cost ten cents? I do now.

Independence of Personal Demons and Angels

So I've stumbled across Studio 30+ and I'm gonna give it a go. In fact, any other writing prompt site you can throw at me I'd love to check out. This weeks prompt:

Independence:

Independence is a struggle. Independence takes work. Freedom may be the outcome but Independence itself is not free.

I’ve struggled so much in my life trying to maintain a personal level of freedom and Independence.

As I just mentioned today in my other blog, the struggle for independence between myself and my parents was, challenging.

I was told to be independent. At the same time, my parents structured and scheduled my entire life away, effectively ensuring that I had no time with which to be independent. Beginning at the age of 7 I played softball, was in karate, was a gymnast, played piano, was in an accelerated learning school (yeah, yeah I was gifted), and at any given time was trying other sports/clubs like soccer, volleyball, more softball leagues (I was in 3 at one time), art club, science club, pep club, Drama… you name it, I was in it.

I was every parents dream! Until the little terror in me began creeping out into the night which was the only place I found real freedom.

I was both an angel and a demon. Excelling at school and sports during the day. Falling to alcohol and vandalism at night. Eventually the pressure became too much and the need to be free began to take over completely. I would focus less on the creative, and embrace the destruction I found myself consumed by.

Lacking a healthy outlet for my own independence I railed against the externally imposed structure, rebelling, destructive, deteriorating… but free. This kind of freedom came at a cost. I’d escape the hands of my parents clawing to keep me held into their safe, idealized little world only to be bound by my own mental traps and chains. Freedom from one only to be caged by another.

In never knowing a proper balance, I couldn’t recognize what it looked like in order to establish it.

Even now as I have entered into my 30s I struggle with finding this balance. I struggle with needing others and needing to be free from the restraints that others might see fit to impose upon me. At once rebelling against authority, and embracing the need for the guidance it provides.  

By my own hand or others, I’m a restricted rebel.