Yesterday, I was rejected in a way that I don’t recall ever being rejected. I shared an idea, but unfortunately, my idea irked the person I shared it with causing them to halt me as I attempted to express my emotions and what I had learned from my reflections. I retreated like a child with tears from a hurt pride rolling down my cheeks. My self-confidence as a storyteller was shot.
My fictional idea came to me as I showered. It was a story that evolved into a sort of epiphany. To give you the gist of it…my family and I lived under a strict regime in another dimension, and for population control purposes, each family had to choose one member to take a pill that led to their demise. However, the time of death was unknown, it could be anywhere from the next day to within 100+ years.
I didn’t think of my idea as twisted at the time I was inventing it because, well, it had a positive purpose. Its purpose was to teach me how to give the best of me everyday. How so, you may be asking? (I thank you greatly if you’re questioning without judging me.)
I’ve written about death before. I’ve written about how I’m not afraid of death itself as much as I’m afraid of leaving my loved ones earthside. Am I the only one that thinks about death? Is it wrong to do so? I don’t allow it to dampen the way I live, if anything, it helps enhance it. Let me explain.
(Back to my fictional story’s purpose.) I—without a question—chose myself to take that pill because, well to put it plainly, I’m a mom and moms selflessly take on way more than they should.
In knowing that I could die tomorrow or possibly not until after I’m 100 years old, I decide to live my life with great intentions, yet normal. What does this mean? In this crazy dimension I created, I continue living my routine life. I find it silly to live the “YOLO” lifestyle as I could live to see my grandNuggets. However, I create a balance. I make it a daily priority to love my better half and Nuggets with all intensity, and my first concern is to teach my Nuggets how to survive on their own, make good decisions, and love with their whole heart…all before I die.
I know my story may sound morbid to some of you—who knows, maybe all of you—but I am confident in saying that it brought me the understanding of how important it is to live life as if I was dying, because honestly, how do I know that tomorrow won’t be my last day? There are so many ways to die that just because I don’t have a terminal illness doesn’t mean I’m safe from all fatal harm.
I know that for some people, living each day to the best of their ability is easy, but for me it’s not. I need something a little more tangible, and stories do that for me.
Before sharing my idea and being rejected, I wasn’t aware that I was doing anything wrong. It might be I have a twisted mind, but actually, I refuse to accept the idea that I do because I am a storyteller, I am an experience-sharer. It is through sharing that I am enabled to reflect on life and grow from these reflections. (On a side note, maybe I should cut back on watching shows like Bates Motel and The Man in the High Castle.)
It took me a good meditation to build myself up again and acknowledge that I am who I am, and creating crazy stories in my head is nothing new to me. I thank you for allowing me to share my ideas with you, and I thank you for not judging me.
Cheers to welcoming the crazy stories we can all learn from!