The different faces of disaster

I think it started in high school. That's when I would see people, namely the popular kids, and wonder why it was that God saw fit to make their lives so much better than mine. I couldn't understand why they were more liked, prettier and just seemed to have their lives together. I didn't understand why that could not be me.

It's a feeling that shows it face from time to time. I had that feeling once as I watched my white male anglosaxen co-worker tell me about his house and his lovely wife and their designer duds and Mercedes car. Hell we work the same job with the same degree and experience and I could not understand how he could have so much more than me. We have gotten very close over the past year and I have heard stories of his empty bank accounts, past drug addictions and current struggle with mental health issues. He seemed perfect. It was quite the eye opener for me. Once in graduate school while eating in the faculty dining room I saw a girl who used to pick on me in a horrible way, working in the line serving food. I placed my order and pretended not to know who she was. She immediately lit up and said, "J! It's good to see you!" I smiled and answered her, though I felt so small for holding on to such a bitter memory. Another eye opener.

I feel that way sometimes when I see others in the lifestyle. They seem to have these beautiful lives. They are models and the cameras are ready to take their pictures but as I have allowed myself to sit back and be silent for a while I have noticed many of them are a beautiful disaster. They cannot manage their lives, they create chaos where they walk. For many of them I suppose their outward beauty is their wild card and even their high card. My intimidation of them has made a quick decline as I have realized they are all just like me, a beautiful disaster. I got blessed with the brains and them with the looks. I am sure they would want to trade with me as I have days I would love to trade with them. I am learning to be more appreciative of what I have and to not try to guess someone's story, good or bad. Other people go through the same things I go through; sad times, broken heart, financial troubles, abandonment issues, etc. so why should they be any different from me? I have not been the best person toward other people in the past year for a million reasons, but I want to give them a more equal view, whether they deserve it or not.

At the end of the day we are all a disaster, a messy, complicated, dysfunctional disaster...hoping that no one notices.