Showing posts with label Love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Love. Show all posts

Thursday, May 22, 2014

The Lies We Tell Ourselves

In 2008, I had to make a decision. Whichever choice I made, I thought it would kill me to forgo the other. I felt as though I were being torn in two, and I wasn't very well put together even before all that came up.

I tried for the longest time to avoid making that choice. To dream up some way to have things both ways. If I had been a more whole person back then, maybe I could even have found a better way, I don't know. Certainly I could have come to a firm conclusion faster, which would have been easier for all parties concerned.

I thought I had made my decision, but then all at once I was uncertain again. I am not sure how close this situation came to killing me, but I know that I spent a lot of time thinking about ways in which I might suffer a fatal accident, and thus be spared having to make that goddamned decision.

The situation as it stands is far from perfect. None of us has everything we wanted. But I can live with it. Or anyway, I've stopped wishing I were dead.

But how I wish I had not caused so much needless pain to those others. There is no upside to that, and no way to reduce the shame I feel at how I treated the ones who were dearest to me.

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Still My Favorite Valentine

Definitely, and by a long chalk: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harlequin_Valentine

Saturday, May 19, 2012

It Really Was, No Kidding

Not that I expect you to ever believe it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=voqL5ksOuoo

Most likely I will go to my grave unforgiven.

Such is life.

Life goes on.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Speak Out With Your Geek Out

http://www.speakoutwithyourgeekout.com/

My big geekiness is history, I have recently discovered.

I didn't list "history" among my interests until my wife pointed out to me that I had taught a middle-school class about the Cold War era [primarily by showing them "Dr. Strangelove" ("This is what we feared") and "2001" ("This is what we hoped for")], had written a series of alternate-history stories, was always surprising people with tidbits of historical trivia....

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

The Woman Who Received Many Blessings

Once there was a woman who received many blessings in her life, so let us call her Deo Gratia. "D.G." is a suitable name for her.

D.G. received many blessings, but she was only allowed to keep two of them.

The first thing that happened to her was that she received the gift of life, and that is not a small thing.

She had a fiance who loved her and gave her two daughters. But first her fiance was taken from her, and then her girls.

She suffered for years from a terrible disease, but one day her doctor delivered two blessings: not only had her disease gone into remission, but her disease was one which, if it went away, it never came back.

This was an especial blessing because she was still young enough to have another child, now that she knew she would live long enough to raise it.

She had a boy, and then she learned that the disease which would never come back, had.

D.G. had another man, and he said he would marry her, but when it came down to it, he let her down.

She had a profession which brought her satisfaction and money, but there came a time when she could not work at her trade, so she worked at jobs which gave her too little satisfaction, and far too little money.

In the end, there were only two blessings which would not be taken from her:

First, her son. Even death would not separate them, because he would love his mother forever.

Second, all suffering eventually comes to an end.

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Playing Cat and Mouse (Over and Over In My Head)

For several years I have been haunted1 by "Cat and Mouse"2, an episode of The Twilight Zone3 in which a woman invites a stray cat into her home and learns that he is a man who has lived for centuries cursed to spend every day as a cat.4
They become lovers, which is beneficial to her since she has hitherto been crippled by extreme shyness (she is the "mouse" of the title), and he makes it clear from the beginning that he is interested only in a very casual relationship. Even so, she is crushed when she learns he has had sex with a friend of hers. So much that she decides to drug him, and he wakes up the next day in a cat-carrier at a veterinary clinic, where she is arranging to have him "fixed".

1 No, that is not too strong a term.
2 Which never should have occupied so much space in my head, but there it is.
3 And not even the classic Rod Serling series, but the 1980s color revival.
4 At night, he can change voluntarily between cat and man.


So why does this story keep coming back into my mind? Specifically, why did it climb into my head when I woke up at 3:00 AM and prevent me from getting back to sleep before the alarm went at 4 and I had to get up?

What does it mean to me? Do I feel as though I am in danger of being emasculated -- sexually, or socially, or . . . what? I don't get it.

My sex life is actually pretty good right now, and I seem to have better control over my sexuality than before -- it's been quite awhile since I did anything stupid and destructive on account of listening to my dick.

Not having regular work bothers me a lot. That could be it. It certainly makes me feel weak and helpless and impotent, and it prevents me from "doing my duty" by my wife and to a lesser extent by other people I care about.

Do I feel as though I am, like the cat-man, the victim of some immense, cruel, disproportionate revenge?

Possibly. Several times recently I have felt ill-used by demands and complaints that seem irrational and arbitrary.

I don't know. And I don't know why I have been feeling so irritable all morning when it has actually been a very enjoyable and undemanding day.

I've been feeling very pleased with myself over my increased self-awareness since I went through therapy, but times like this show me that there will always be limits to it. But at least I am noticing that my feelings are irrational, and not trying to blame them on someone or some circumstance around me.

Friday, December 24, 2010

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

Maybe it's been a long year for you. A hard one. A disappointing one.

Maybe you lost someone -- to death, or circumstance, or estrangement.

Maybe you didn't do something you wanted to. Maybe you didn't stop doing something you shouldn't do.

Maybe you are far from home, or someone close to you is far from home. Maybe home doesn't feel like home anymore.

Hang up a string of lights anyway. Listen to happy music. Or if you can't bear to, at least listen to something encouraging.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5g4lY8Y3eoo

The year is ending. A new year is coming. It's going to be different from last year, one way or another.

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

It Wasn't True

I looked at an old post today, and was shocked by what I saw there.

I wrote about how it was that, when it seemed there was no chance I would ever be reconciled with my wife, she asked me to come back and try again, and how my abrupt decision to give her a trial hurt other people.

What I wrote back then was an attempt to paint a gentler picture of what happened, out of a desire to exculpate myself for going back on my word, and to scold someone else for what I perceived as going back on hers.

What I said simply wasn't true, and I think I knew even then that it wasn't.

I was really a mess back then, but that is not an excuse for the many ways in which I hurt the people around me. Having figured out that my mind was confused and disordered, I should have withdrawn from human relationships as much as I could until I knew who I was and what I wanted. Instead, I rushed about in all directions at once, causing harm all around me.

And then I distorted and misrepresented what I had done.

I shouldn't have done that, either.

Thursday, September 30, 2010

Try Other Things Before You Try Killing Yourself

And other useful advice from rm:

http://rm.livejournal.com/1933522.html?view=22593746#t22593746

For the longest time I thought I wasn't wired for suicide, and that this was all that had saved my life on several occasions. Then I really did feel suicidal.

Bupropion helped*. So did reminding myself to mutter "I want to live" under my breath, instead of "I wish I were dead".

* The first antidepressant I tried didn't help, but I found that it's like reporting sexual abuse: if you don't get help from the first person/drug, keep trying until you do.

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Happy 90th Birthday, Ray Bradbury

Here's your present:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e1IxOS4VzKM

Friday, July 9, 2010

So Terribly Sorry

It is so hard to restore trust once it has been broken.

And so easy, when a person doesn't trust you, to give offense without meaning to.

So hard to rebuild a friendship.

And when your time is limited....

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Try It And See

Some years ago, a person I knew professionally said that going on an antidepressant was the best thing that had ever happened to her.
"They should hand out free samples on streetcorners," she said. After all, she reasoned, those who weren't helped by it could simply not take it again.
I'm not sure I would go that far, but I do wish that I had tried Wellbutrin sooner.
I'm being cautious here, since I'm only on my second week, but I do think that it is helping.
Last night, I finally got a clear picture in my mind of how I have been living my life these past fifty years: I pictured myself swimming on my back in a sea of foul, dirty water, knowing that at any moment I might make a false move and sink into it.
Or, it's like that kind of dream where you are aware that you are dreaming, but it feels as though if you can ease smoothly into wakefulness without breaking the spell, then the dog really will have come home alive after all -- only the "dream" in this case is the notion that life is worth living.
That's how I have spent most of my life: at any moment, I might remember some obligation I have not yet carried out, or worse yet something I did wrong which I can't ever take back, and then down I would go, to spend minutes or hours or days in that state of helpless misery and horror.
That is why I agreed with Plato that every person's life is "a terrible battle". And why I wrote that story that became the first post here that says just getting through the day requires "a man of steel".
It's possible that this sense of abject misery lying in wait at all times was the origin of the attention deficit that has kept me from doing better at work.
But I noticed the other day that this cycle of shame and recrimination wasn't happening the same way. Instead, when I thought of something bad, I would wince or shudder and then say calmly, "Well, I need to do that/avoid that/never do that again," the way other people seem to be able to do without much trouble.
It might just be that I'm getting better at handling things. To look objectively at what I am doing and make a rational judgment about it is what I was going for in all that therapy. And it's one of the things they lean on heavily at Co-Dependents Anonymous. Or maybe I'm kidding myself when I think that I'm getting better at it.
But I don't think so. I really do think that I am thinking more clearly about the world and my place in it.
And I am doubting my own judgment a lot less, too.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

I Can See (A Little More) Clearly Now

I can see, more clearly than before, at least, that my biggest problem is and always has been my own image of myself, my own harsh assessment of myself.

When I first met Mrs. Psycho, I was 23 and she was 46, she had been married, she had lived all over the country, she had raised four children, &c. I wanted her but I felt totally outclassed by her.

And now, 26 years later, older myself than she was back then, and having raised four kids my own damn self, I find...that I still feel inferior to her. But now I can see that it's just me.

I also see how much of the misery I have lived with for most of my life really has been my own fault. Not all of it, no, but a lot. And I see how all of it would have been easier to take if only I had been on my own side then whole time.

I have other problems in my life, and not all of them are inside me, but I feel a lot more confident of being able to deal with them now.

Friday, May 28, 2010

To See The Birds Come Back

Charlie came home from school and found Leo sitting on the front step. Leo was Charlie’s favorite grown-up.

“Hey, dudito, how’s it going?”

“Hey, dudissimo, not bad. What are you doing?”

“Just going to take a walk through the trees over by the soccer fields. Want to come?”

Charlie unlocked the door, put away his backpack and came out to join Leo. They headed along the unpaved footpath beside the house, towards the woods that stood between their street of houses and the long row of soccer fields at the edge of town.
“So, what happened at school?”

“We read a poem called ‘Chicken Soup With Rice’. It’s by Maurice Sendak, who wrote In the Night Kitchen. Do you know that poem?”

“Yes, I do. ‘Happy once, happy twice, happy chicken soup with rice’.”

“Anyway, the teacher said we should each of us write a line to add to the poem. It could be about a time of the year, or a particular day of the year, or a time of day. Preston diMallea wrote, ‘At supper time, it’s so nice to eat supper’, and got mad when everybody laughed. Patti Schulz wrote, ‘On Saturday it’s so nice to visit my Grandpa’. And then Tori Garcia said, ‘At dinner time, it’s so nice to have dinner with my Dad’, and Preston diMallea got mad again and said that’s what he meant.”

“Yeah, sounds like a lot went on in that class. So what did you write?”

Charlie gave an embarrassed smile and said, “’In the spring it’s so nice to see the birds come back.’”

Leo stopped walking, staring at the sky between the trees.

“Oh, man, Charlie, you don’t know just how nice that is.”

Charlie put his hand on Leo’s arm. He could tell that Leo was thinking about something that was making him feel funny.

“What do you mean?”

Just then a big bird flew overhead, looking big and black against the blue sky.

“Look at that one. It’s a turkey vulture.”

Charlie made a face.

“Turkey vultures have ugly heads.”

“They have the kind of heads they need for the way they live. And don’t they look beautiful in flight?”

“Yeah. I like how their feathers spread out like fingers.”

They saw a crow on the ground, picking up and eating some piece of garbage. Charlie remembered the story Leo had told about how the Rainbow Bird got blackened into a crow by carrying a smokey torch.

“It is nice, Charlie, to see the birds come back. And not just in the spring. There are more birds every year now.”

“Why is that?”

“Because for a long time, the birds were dying away, and nobody knew why. One day, a woman was walking in the trees in the springtime like we are doing right now, and she noticed that she could hardly hear any birds. And she said to herself, ‘If the birds keep going away, one day there will be no birds at all singing in the springtime. It will be a…silent spring.”

Charlie shuddered at the way Leo said those last words.

They walked along, and it seemed to Charlie as though there were birds everywhere he looked: crows and robins on the ground, big turkey vultures high in the sky, tiny sparrows and meadowlarks in the tree branches.

“So what was happening to the birds?”

“Well, that woman wanted to know, so she studied birds carefully, to find out what was going wrong. Were hunters killing them? Were the birds catching new diseases? Were humans cutting down too many trees, so birds had no place to build their nests? She found out all of those things were happening, but none of them explained why the birds were going away so fast.

“And then she found out that when birds laid their eggs, the shells were too thin, and the eggs broke before the baby birds could grow inside them. Sometimes the eggs broke when the big birds sat on them to keep them warm.”

“Oh, gross!”

“So then she wanted to find out what was making the eggshells so thin, and she found out that it was being caused by DDT, a poison that farmers were using to kill the bugs that were eating their crops. See, the bugs breathed in the DDT, and got sick and died, but there were a few bugs that could live with DDT in them, so those few bugs had lots of babies, and soon all the bugs were safe from DDT, but the farmers kept on using more and more DDT, and the birds were eating those bugs that were full of DDT.

“The thing is, DDT gets into your body and it stays for your whole life. And when a bird ate a hundred bugs, it got a hundred bugs’ worth of DDT inside it, and it stayed. And when that bird ate more bugs the next day, it got even more DDT in it.”

“But not all birds eat bugs, do they?”

“Some birds eat leaves and seeds, but the plants were all full of DDT too. And the birds that ate mice, like owls, or that ate other birds, like hawks, got even more DDT, because they got all the DDT from all the bugs that those mice and birds ate. So the big birds, like turkey vultures and bald eagles, suffered the most of all.”

Charlie shook his head.

“That’s terrible.”

“It was terrible, Charlie. And year after year, there were fewer birds in the sky.”

“But then people stopped using DDT, right?”

“Not at first. They didn’t want to. They said they couldn’t keep growing food unless they used DDT. They said things like, ‘Do you care more about bird babies, or human babies?’

“It took a long time, and lots of work. And the woman who had been worried about the birds had to go all over the world telling people they had to stop using DDT, and to be careful about all of the chemicals they used, for growing food and for other reasons. It was a huge amount of work, because people were stubborn and didn’t want to admit that there was a problem. There was a man who went on TV and ate a spoonful of DDT to show that it wouldn’t kill him, but that was a trick, because one spoonful of DDT won’t do a human a lot of harm – it’s the damage that lots of DDT over a long time can do to all the animals that is the big problem.

“So that woman spent years giving lectures, and writing books, and talking with important people, trying to get them to stop using DDT. And she went right on working so hard, even after her doctor told her that she was very sick, and was going to die soon. She decided she would rather spend her last days trying to save the birds, even though being sick made her very tired all the time and all she wanted to do was rest. And on the day she died, there were still people saying they didn’t want to stop using DDT. But finally, many years later, they finally did stop. And many years after that, the DDT began to go out of the world – slowly, slowly. And the birds started to come back.”

“But she was already dead.”

“Yes, and I think that’s the saddest thing about that woman’s story: not that she died young, but that she died before she could know whether she had saved the birds or not.”

“The birds coming back was her reward, but she didn’t get to see it.”

“No. So I guess it is our job to watch the birds come back for her, and to remember that the birds wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t done all that hard work.”
They came out of the trees at the far end of the long row of soccer fields. There was one big bird flying very high up. Charlie pointed it out. Leo looked for a moment and then squeezed Charlie’s hand.

“That’s not a turkey vulture. Look at its head. It’s bigger than a buzzard’s.”

“And it looks like it’s all white.”

“Charlie, that’s a bald eagle.”

“It’s our country’s bird,” Charlie whispered.

“When I was your age, there were only a few eagles left. I thought that by the time I grew up, they would be gone. I thought I would never see a bald eagle flying free like that one is.”

“But they’re coming back, too, right?”

Leo stroked Charlie’s head.

“That’s right.”

“I’m glad you got to see an eagle, Leo.”

“I’m glad you got to see it, too, Charlie.”

They watched the eagle until it was out of sight.

Saturday, May 15, 2010

I Should Be Happier Right Now

I got to do two of my favorite things today, and didn't have to do anything terribly unpleasant.

Yes, my father is still dying. And yes, I am still pathetically without a decent career, or even a solid job. And the other things.

Still, I don't know what else to do besides keep moving forward.

And bear with this misery in the hope that I will feel better later on.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Happy Mother's Day

In honor of his own mother, and her mother, and his wife (most definitely a mother), and to other mothers* who loom large in his life.

*Yes, especially that one.

http://pandagon.net/index.php/site/comments/happy_mothers_day/


-- Dr. Psycho

There are five things we cannot change: 1) everything changes and ends, 2) things do not always go according to plan, 3) justice is not guaranteed, 4) pain is a part of life, and 5) people are not loving or loyal all the time. -- David Richo

Monday, April 12, 2010

Pain in the Past, Hope for the Future

Yesterday, I had a sudden insight into something that I thought I had already accepted and assimilated: the fact that I have caused terrible pain to the people I cared most about.

I thought I had already owned that, and owned up to it, but suddenly it sank in just a bit deeper, the false hope and disappointment I had created by my careless actions.

It is hard to accept that reality. Apparently I can only do it in small increments.

Still, the reality is what it is. I did do those things, and I had that effect. All I can do now is to admit to what I have done, apologize for it, and try to do better in years to come.

I know that I am not saying anything that I haven't said before, but periodically I can see these things that I am saying again more clearly.

Quakers have a way of saying, "I'll hold him in the Light" to mean they will be praying for him. My wife and I have a joke, "We'll hold him in the Light so God can see him better". But maybe when I am held in the Light, it helps me see more clearly, too. And maybe I have been granted a bit of enlightenment, in spite of everything.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

It Worked

The other day, while looking after my frail old father, I arranged an outing for him. I took him into town to visit his sister and her husband. Also present were my wife and her former husband, who by chance lives in the same neighborhood.

It was a pleasant, low-key event (my wife referred to it as a "tea party", and in fact tea and cookies were present). When I had taken my father home and gotten home myself, I felt inordinately good about the day's accomplishments, and wondered why.

It's not as though I had never orchestrated an event involving multiple persons, one of whom was quite dependent on me (I've raised four children, after all). But I think it's possible that this was the first time in all my five decades of life that I initiated such an event and organized it from start to finish, as opposed to having at least part of it (especially the initial idea) be someone else's work.

Thursday, December 24, 2009

My Favorite Christmas Story

[This is a story I enjoy reciting aloud to groups of people. It usually gets a good reception, if they stick with it and get past an opening that sounds like it's just a rude joke. It's a retelling of a story I read in an anthology some years ago -- no idea of title, author or publishing history -- does anyone recognize it?]

Our story begins on a cold, wet, slushy Winter night, many years ago, when a group of impoverished swineherds were sitting up with their charges, cursing and quarreling and fighting over the jug, when the ground before them suddenly split open, and with a gout of flame and a roiling cloud of sulfurous smoke, a hideous demon rose before them.

"Are you scared? Good. Now listen close: five miles to the south there is the ruin of an abandoned tavern, and in it you will find a whore who has just given birth. Bow down before her child and worship him, or I'll break your heads."

The demon vanished, and the swineherds hastily hurried off. Soon they came to the ruined tavern, and in it they found a skinny, ragged girl clutching an ugly little baby covered in black hair. They bowed down before him and then hurried off as quickly as they thought safe, except for one of their number who paused to take off her shawl and tuck it around the child, saying, "The mite looks cold."

Once they were alone again, the child said, "Mother, those people bowed down before me because they were afraid of Father and Father's demon, but I don't think that is why the woman gave me her shawl."

"No, dear. I think she did that out of friendship."

"Is friendship important?"

"I think sometimes it is."

Soon after, the mother and child were joined by new visitors, this time three Princes out of the East.

They too bowed down before him, and then the first approached and set down an urn full of silver coins, saying, "People will do almost anything if you give them enough silver."

The second Prince then approached, and opened a chest of opium, saying, "People will do things for opium that they won't do for any amount of silver."

The third Prince offered the child a vial of arsenic, observing, "If you meet someone who can't be bought with silver or opium or anything else, you can always get rid of him."

Then the three Princes bowed low and retired, leaving the mother and child alone again.

Eventually, the child said, "Mother, the Princes bowed down to me and gave me gifts, but they did that because they thought they could gain power by helping Father, didn't they? I don't think any of them was a friend."

"No, dear. Princes seldom have any friends."

Last of all from out of the West came the child's father himself, a far more terrifying creature than his servant. He looked down on his son and said,

"It is good. This child will grow and be loved and feared by all for his powers of illusion-making and prophesy, and he will be sought by all kings for their courts. And soon the Great King will be born, and you my son will be his teacher and counselor, and shape him into the king I need, to conquer the realm I need, to raise the army I need for the final battle, and all will occur as I desire."

Saying this, he departed, and the mother and child knew they would not be disturbed again that night. After a long silence, the mother finally spoke, saying,

"Dear, is it true what your father said, that you have the gift of prophesy? Can you see the future?"

"Yes, Mother. I can see the future more clearly than Father can, and I know something important that Father doesn't know."

"What's that, Merlin?"

"I know that Arthur will be my friend."


[I love that story.]

Wednesday, December 23, 2009