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Sebastyne

A rock fan. A thinker. A psychic empath and a channel, a Tarot reader. A polyandrist; The lover of men, kings, and gods. An eternal romance analyzer.  A romantic pervert. Generation X Rebel. A psycho-spiritual life coach.

In The Crossfire of Expectations and the Real Me

The Midlife Crisis only hits the Dreamers.

I think every one of us is in a similar position to me to some extent, whether they are aware of it or not; people around them all have an opinion of what they should be for whoever is willing to take them on as a friend, or a family member project. “We will have you, but only if you improve yourself in this field, or stop being that, liking that, being interested in that, and start showing interest towards this.” In the meanwhile, they are adamant, that the people who already think you are awesome the way you are are inferior to them, and “a bad influence” on you. This is where I am. The added extra bonus round: I am very talented, very smart, and very capable of learning, very intuitive and already of high value to a lot of different kinds of people, whether I intended to make myself unexpendable or not (I did not… If anything, in MOST cases, I wanted to do the opposite; to be of as little value to them as possible, so that they wouldn’t think they NEED to have me…

Instead, they might have thought I show potential but need guidance, and I got myself deeper into their web instead.

I am 41 years old. 41 and a half, almost to the day. At 18, I decided that I’d die at the age of 42. I believe I somehow cursed myself with that, and, through my spiritual journey, I’ve concluded that there might be two things pending for me at 42: a real death, or a true change over from who I was to who I want to be. I hate myself for picking 42 as the magic number. What an idiotic number to pick if there was a number. Why that old, why that young? I thought I wouldn’t want to live past 42, who the fuck would, right? I tell you who.

Someone who feels they haven’t even lived so far.

Who are still so hungry for some kind of a relief or a solution, some true achievement, that they HAVE to keep going to find it.

And no, that’s not a good thing.

I’d rather die at 27 having lived a full decade doing something awesome, than live to 100 not really living at all.

Live fast, die young, I thought. Die young and leave a pretty corpse.

I hate the idea of aging. I hate it. I hate the idea of finding happiness and love only after the physical body has failed me. I hate the idea of finding someone who loves me despite the fact I am no longer beautiful, or who has to console me by saying I still look attractive even though I am 55.

I hate plastic surgery, I hate aging.

The only thing that keeps me going is knowing there are people like Cher or Tina Turner who turn years after years still feeling fantastic, and knowing that no matter how old I get, I don’t really want to be any younger, either, as there is a certain class that only comes with age, a certain… Maturity. I wouldn’t want to BE 20, but I wouldn’t mind looking 22.

But I wish I hadn’t wasted 20 years listening to people’s bullshit about family values and happiness achieved only through the pursuit of stability and whatever. The little heed that I took of it was a little too much. I should have ignored idiots who do not understand the meaning of self-expression or love of the arts or music… I should have ran towards my ambitions and fame and fortune and… Fuck… I should have done ANYTHING to be rich and famous, shamelessly so. I should have ignored nice men who “deserved me” (fuck, kids, anyone who thinks they DESERVE YOU, do not). There is NEVER enough you can be or do for those who you TRULY value and love, and those people who think they’ve done enough to deserve you now… Holy fuck how wrong can they be about it! A person truly in love is always a beggar or too humble to speak, too weak to claim you, or… Simply thankful and grateful for the incredible luck of having you, or something…

“I deserve you” is NEVER a feeling someone who truly loves you.

Not for a second.

Whatever else they feel, “I deserve you”, or “I’ve done enough for you” is not what they feel.

And, instead of that, a whole heap of people who think they’re the best thing that could possibly happen to you, not only think they deserve you but that they have the right to ask you to DO MORE for them before they will accept you into the relationship you don’t even want from them. How fucked up is that?

This is the thinking of a rejection junkie. Because they are motivated by rejection, they try and up the bar for you even though you couldn’t give a shit about them, because they think that the more they ask of you, the more you’ll want them, and the frustration of having to deal with people like this is absolutely mind-boggling. (They believe that the best way to get a celebrity client is to reject them, too, “because they’re used to suck ups”. Oh, fuck me. You betcha that the people who actually get excited about such businesses are the celeb’s representatives, who then, once this celeb service provider has approved their celebrity client, they have to fucking work double time trying to convince the celeb themselves that this business is worth their time “because they’re very sought after”, while the celeb is feeling annoyed as fuck trying to figure out why having a massage at a certain parlour is a life and death thing. Fuck these people.)

I haven’t got a clue how all of this relates to my intended topic again, but fuck that. I am a rambler, I must embrace my inner rambler, and trust that the people who love reading ramblings will find me. I am actually a lover of ramblers myself, so I am certain there must be a few of us out there. I love to be taken on a trip through someone else’s mind, not knowing where it’s going to lead in the end. I love to find out how someone else’s mind works… So I’ll stop apologising for my ramblings and rebelliously wean off topic…

But yes. The expectations of the wrong people can get you off your authentic path. That would be the connection here. The wrong people who think they are a better influence on you than the people who you actually want to find and impress. It is incredibly difficult to make them comprehend such an idea that you’d ACTUALLY choose the company that they would not or a lifestyle they would not choose for themselves. Their idea always is that if this person would think they COULD have what they are offering, they’d be right into it. Which is understandable, we all think whatever it is that we want is what anyone would want, like… For me, the most obvious thing is that if ANYONE could have a rock star husband, they’d have one, right? Wrong. Some women think that marrying a rock star is kind of a self-sacrifice, something that only a very patient and loving woman would do, someone strong-willed to keep him on the straight and narrow. Someone to show him the Right Path, because, hell, all rock stars are miss-guided, right, and even if they make money, they still are in the harm’s way having to lead that terrible life style… And here I am thinking… Wow. How awesome would it be to be married to a rock star, who would NEVER grow up, who would NEVER try and pin me down into the traditional role of a mother and a wife, but would be a sex god, sex obsessed pervert who would rather share me with his friends than to beg me to breed a child with him… (although both may happen with them, they’re human, after all.) And yes, I’ve gotten over the whole monogamous marriage thing, and now I’m more to the point if someone could have several rock star boyfriends/husbands… FUUUUCK, wow! Who wouldn’t want that? And, at the same time, a flock of the wrong people are trying to rescue me from the fate I think everyone would be jealous of…

But they are not. They simply are not and I know that, but because I am not motivated by image or perception of other people, I want it regardless. Who would not, I wonder, but logically I understand other women would shudder at the thought of becoming what I wish I had been from 18 onwards but never got anywhere near that place after stupidly declining an invitation to join Aerosmith backstage. The dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever done, and I am CERTAIN it was my mother’s spirit who begged me not to go and I was stupid enough to listen to her.

I was certain that the less I resisted, the easier I’d find an opportunity. I was respectful and mild mannered, I went along things to show I wasn’t a threat, and to show I can think for myself and that I am mature enough to make my own decisions… But inside, I wanted what I wanted and that made everyone around me nervous, I guess, in the spirit… I think ghosting out of the influence field of your parents works if you are in a big family, but if you are one of two children, particularly with no cousins and several aunts and uncles, you become the fucking apple of everyone’s eye, and you know there is no way you’d get into trouble without them noticing. How much are you willing to bet I am their fucking group project, and I don’t even dare to think what my brother wanted out of life that he didn’t get. He conformed easier though. He was always easier to manage, even if he escapes into the drink at times.

I am fighting so hard to release myself from the clutches of people who do not understand me, the wrong people. I do not know whether I’ll manage to release myself during this lifetime, but I am going to be free by the next lifetime, no matter what. And I’ll make damned sure I’ll catch the next incarnations of Steven Tyler and Joe Perry before they hit 21… Before I hit 17.

I will fight off my angels, protectors, my well-intentioned but misguided intercessors and the like. Too bad that intercepting for someone else with an ill intent to make them too busy about their own life to worry about yours won’t have such power as a well-intentioned intercept because whatever we do out of love will lull us into the belief that we’re doing the right thing, even if we were destroying another person and their will to live… So the only thing left to do is to keep fighting, keep trying to reason with these people and to keep looking for a way out and KNOW it’s not easy. Unfortunately, someone who thinks they’re doing you a favor by saying in your life is not likely to give up on their self-congratulating feeling of “never giving up on you” even though “you are testing their love by rebelling against them”. And, usually, nearing 30, we tend to give up the fight… We feel like it’s childish to keep fighting or dreaming for something more or something bigger, better orgasms, higher love or a more fulfilling experience in some way… Some will take their own life if this feeling won’t go away, some will simply give up and conform, start drinking a lot, or whatever to medicate the feeling of never TRULY feeling alive and fulfilled. Somehow always winding up short changed or given JUST A LITTLE LESS than what would be satisfying. Always that One Little Compromise that will drive you on the fucking walls.

And still… It’s Joe Perry’s birthday… and as if I was 20, I can feel the call, the promise of a better day listening to that magician playing. It’s a relief, and an escape that I wish will one day materialize in a way that I can say… I made it out of my prison… I made it. I’m here now. With you all.

And I want to rescue my own kind from this bullshit.

I just want to break the chains… We deserve more from this world. We deserve to be happy, even if our happiness didn’t come the way others expect it to. Who cares if we are ‘normal’ as long as we’re happy. Fuck normal. Fuck expectations. Fuck ‘acting my age’.

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