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Showing posts from May, 2010

Creative Destruction

"The Destructors" by Graham Greene captured me from the first sentence, as some short stories do, and I reread it every so often, to dig deeper into it and reexperience its events. It's about a gang of children that utterly destroys a townhouse, demolishes it piece by piece - from the furniture to the fixtures to the floors and ceilings and walls to the utilities to the roof and sides - till it is quite literally a pile of rubble. The de facto leader of the gang, T, directs the whole operation with fascinating resourcefulness. One of the boys asks T if he is destroying the house because he hates the owner, "Old Misery."
"Of course I don't hate him," T said. "There'd be no fun if I hated him. . . . All this hate and love," he said, "it's soft, it's hooey. There's only things, Blackie," and he looked round the room crowded with the unfamiliar shadows of half things, broken things, former things.T's father is an…

The Void That Is Me

It sounds dramatic, doesn't it, when I say that I don't know who I am? But notice that sentence. It started off with some self-deprecation and an accusation: You probably think I'm just being dramatic when I say this. Because I expect you to think: Oh, she's overstating the case. How could she not know who she is? She has such a strong personality. She's just having one of those bad days or weeks or years. She'll come along.

One of the ways that I am learning who I am is by taking my own feelings seriously. Trying to leave off disclaimers like, "This probably sounds silly, but . . ." or "You're probably right. I don't really feel that way."

My counselor told me, "I admire you for staying with your pain." Taking my pain seriously is what got me into this mess in the first place. So it must be a good mess. It's a me mess. Somewhere in this mess of emotion and experience and what I've felt and what I was supposed to feel…

Still Me

My blog has a new name and lovely new colors, but it's still me posting. I needed a new way to express the questions I'm exploring and the person I hope I'm becoming.

A half-life is "the time required for half the nuclei in a sample of a specific isotopic species to undergo radioactive decay" (American Heritage Dictionary, 4th ed.). In other words: At a midpoint in life, enough change has occurred for us to draw reasonable conclusions about something's identity.

I have reached the point of realization that the life I live is not full (another kind of half-life). In looking back and evaluating my identity, I see that much of who I am has decayed in a desperate, involved, time-draining attempt to pretend that everything is okay, protecting the half-truths I know and trying to please the half-God I worship.

Fact: Everything is not okay. Saying so does not disprove the Bible, it's not blasphemy, it's not heresy. Admitting my feelings does not mean that I am …