Karma is a joke!


I’ve been on a journey to self strength. Inner truth, peace of the soul, becoming one with the universe.

As I’ve observed, I am singularly unremarkable. Plain. Short. Not pretty or ugly. Polite. Conservative (in public). I have no discernable talents. And like most white folks in my area, I have no heritage to cling to. I pray to an unknown force when I am hurting. I give to charity as often as I can.

As far as I can tell, there shouldn’t be any reason for me to be unhappy.

Ah! But that’s the me from today. The me from being an infant was neglected, pushed aside. By the time I was 4 my mother told me that everytime she looked in my eyes she saw the devil. I was 4, but I was already ‘wrong’ in some way. Does birth make one a bad person? Maybe being a bad baby, not sleeping enough as an infant, perhaps needing special formula was what I had done wrong. I never knew, and I still dont. So I tried to stay out of the way. Tried not to be seen.

School always came easy. My grandfather taught me to read at 4. I’d sit on his lap and read the newspaper to him. He seemed to look past my ‘wrong’, or maybe he never saw it. Yet every time my mother looked at me, it was always as if she was watching to make sure I didn’t stab her in the back.

My grades were good. My athletic ability, minimal. And my beauty (if one could use that word), was sub par. The only activity my mother ever got involved with during my high school years was the homecoming and prom events. I never was homecoming queen, or prom queen. And she always looked so diappointed when I took off the dress.

I always felt lacking. And I still feel as though I owe her for the time and money she spent on me, then. I participated in Track, and the One Act Play every year. But I’m not sure she ever knew about them. Except once. She attended a track meet my older brother competed in, and I was also competing in the girls division. I walked up to my mother, just before I got on the bus. She was taking my brother home in the car, and had planned to buy him dinner afterward. She was surprised to see me, and told me to have my friend’s parents drop me off at home on the way.

Yeh, I was let down. But part of me told myself it should have been expected. Soon I was telling myself all of it should have been expected. Everything bad in my life, SHOULD HAVE BEEN EXPECTED.

When I started dating, of course I chose the wrong guys. Mean and disrespectful. Almost to the point of abuse. Though, I never was sure about that thin line between mean and abuse. I figured no black eye, no abuse.

Split lip? Meh, I got those at home from my brothers. What did it matter when a boyfriend did it? I wasn’t delicate, or fragile. I was not a princess, and there were no such things as knights. But alone, in my room at night…I could listen to an old radio, and pretend someone would write a love song about me. I’d dream that everytime I heard the song, I could feel my lover’s touch…just for a moment.

Oh, how I wanted that touch to be soft! I wanted to know what people meant when they said that I must be special to my family, because I was the only girl. I just blinked my eyes, and smiled, because I didn’t know how to explain that I didn’t know what that meant.

The older I became,  the more I saw. Things weren’t like that for everyone. Most people got warm hugs, and soft kisses. As teenagers they made out in trucks, and felt a rush in their stomach at their first kiss. My experience with “love” was not the kind of thing you read in books. So for me, it was a matter of just do it, and be done.

I enjoyed the rush that came with sex, I enjoyed deep kisses that led to the bedroom.  Unlike most girls, I had not experienced love. Sadly, that didn’t come until my late 30’s, and even he turned out to be a mistake.

However, I did my best to blend in. Got married at 20. Purchased our home at 24, and had my first baby at 27. Nice and normal. Nothing remarkable. Nothing flashy.

And I’m still not happy. I see a psychiatrist  and a psychologist.  I’m medicated, and the problem is still me. I’m still ‘wrong’.

I decided to seek the light. The energy within us all that makes us human and holy. I realized that I could see wavelengths, and auras. I hoped it would help me let go of the negative  energy that waited inside me. But I only had more questions. Everywhere I read about karma, and how those who do wrong,  will be wronged in return.

Then I began to think back on my life. Those who told me, or treated me like I was wrong. Were they right? Was it all punishment, for something I did? But what could an infant have done? Was this a payback from my past lives? I only remembered a few, and I hadn’t wronged anyone in those.

So, what does all of it mean? Am I wrong? Is this not my time for happiness? Are the people who hurt me enjoying the pain they gave me, like they enjoy living fortunate lives?

My only conclusion: Karma is bullshit.


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