A PORTRAIT OF A STRANGER

     The portrait of myself is different from the one my family sees. I am a stranger to them, an anchor to cast out when needed, a scapegoat, a means to an end, or merely a means to justify an action.   I do not play a part in any of the roles they gave me, except within a delusional perspective, when there is a need to cast blame, create a diversion, an excuse, or when they need an advocate to support their point of view, regardless of whether I agree with it or not. 

    I did not know about my grandmother's death until a few weeks after it happened when I got a phone call from my aunt yelling at me for ransacking her house and taking money out of her bank. I also got a letter from my father threatening to sue me if I didn't return any of the gold albums, the ones he assumed I took, the ones rewarded to him.   I didn't worry about it as I had nothing to do with it, yet somehow my name was brought up.

    Then there were the articles against the family that, somehow, I was a part of, simply because it was signed "one of the twins" and riddled with misspelled words.

    One, in particular, showed up in The Enquirer, claiming that our sister is not our sister nor the true daughter of our father. My name was even mentioned in the article as if I agreed with that scenario. 

    I'm also considered bitter, angry, and jealous by one of my siblings though I believe it’s because it helps them feel justified in their actions to view me as not their sibling.

    The truth is, the only thing I've ever stolen was a 1970s toy Transformer at the age of 10, but seeing George (my dad's driver at the time) yell at my younger brother for stealing a pack of gum on the same night, I promised myself never to steal again, and I'm happy to say, I kept that promise.

    I also didn't write any articles on any web pages against my family when they first started showing up. When I did begin writing them many years later, however, I made sure to sign them as I didn't want anyone to be accused of having my opinion. 

    Nor did I know anything about The Enquirer article until my twin brother warned me a day before it was printed. I also can't entirely agree with it as I feel my sister is my sister regardless of her bloodline, plus I was adopted, so I would be the last to talk about "true" family members. 

    I am also not bitter, angry, or even jealous, perhaps a bit envious of all my siblings, but that's because I had always looked up to them while growing up, even my baby sister and her twin brother, but never jealous as I've always wished them the best in life. In fact, I've always supported my family, and I often allowed their schemes, the ones that included me, to play their part as I felt
if any family member wanted to know the truth, they would ask.   They never did; instead, they pretended that what they heard was valid because it fed into their agenda. Does it bother me? Not really. 

I don't play their games; I'm not good at them, nor would I want to be. I don't gaslight, manipulate or cast them out of my life. I live my life the best I can. For many years, I no longer looked for my dad's approval or acceptance or felt a need to make him proud of me. I've accepted who my siblings are and how they are, and whether I agree with their way of life, their actions, their beliefs, or personality is irrelevant; they are my siblings, and I love them, yet I am a stranger to them because they see me as they want to see me and not as I am.

I AM NOBODY, AND HAPPY TO BE SO

    There is Nothing extraordinary about me, nothing special, different, or unique. There is nothing you will find in me or discover about me that you may not find in someone else. I am me simply because I exist. I have many flaws, shortcomings, and tedious obstacles that I can never conquer, yet I wouldn't want to be anyone else. I like who I am, my flaws and all.    Sure, my father is famous, but countless people have famous fathers. Sure, I grew up in Beverly Hills, but numerous people live or have lived or someday will live in Beverly Hills.   Even my learning disability isn't unique, nor is

my shyness, lack of social skills, or insecurities. They are nothing that millions of other people don't have or suffer through. 

When people tell me, "you deserve greatness," "you're entitled to be happy,"  or "you'll be successful someday," I agree with them,  but only because I am being polite.   Otherwise, I believe I will get nothing more than what I am willing to work for or put in.

When my father died and left me nothing from his millions of dollars, I was not upset or bothered by it.   Of course, I was saddened to be cast out of his life, but not because of the wealth he didn't give me, but because of what he took from me, time spent with him.   I never felt entitled to anything he owned nor expected a penny from him; I had always expected precisely what I got because I knew enough about my father to expect nothing more.  

No, I am nobody genuinely extraordinary. I am just a simple man living the best I can while accepting my ordinary, mediocrity existence and happy to do so. I strive to always be better, to learn, and to improve myself simply because while I live, there will always be something to discover about myself and the world in which I live.  However, my goal in life is not to be better; it's just to be pleased with who I am on any given day at any given moment and know we all have building blocks to work with. The child I once was, is still the person I grew up to be- if that makes sense.  

The bottom line, life is what YOU make it; you should only have what you put into it. You should never rely on anyone to give you what you think you are owed; you should never feel so entitled to or deserving of anything.   You should also know that not all days are sunny, not all skies are clear, not all pathways lead to something grand, and not all love is forever, but that's the beauty of life. So I accept who I am, flaws and all, and I'll accept the rainy days still ahead.    

REINVENTING MYSELF FROM THE GROUND UP

 

The hard part about reinventing myself is getting rid of the clutter in my mind. The old habits that got me nowhere, the way of thinking that kept me from leaving my comfort zone, and the inner voices that constantly reminded me of all my limitations, a voice I swear is derived from my dead grandmother.

I’ve always tried to be the good guy and do the decent thing, but I’m finding out it was just another means of playing it safe, of not challenging the order, not going against the wave, and not causing any ripples in the water but we live in a world that was built on all those exact things.

Honestly, I do not know where to start except to go to the nearest bookstore and buy a few books on the subject, and I think an excellent book to start with, which I find appropriately titled, “The Subtle Art of Not Giving a “blank” as that is how I feel at this time. Perhaps, once I’m done with it, I’ll read “HOW TO WIN FRIENDS AND INFLUENCE PEOPLE” because, as of now, I’m not even my own friend. Even now, I’m allowing distractions and an easy escapes from me actually getting up and doing something about it. Sitting in front of a computer and writing about it sure helps, but I’m still just sitting in front of a computer without actually moving forward. So, now I’m thinking to myself; I should jump in the shower,  get dressed, and go to the goddamn bookstore…