Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Words from the Wise

William Q. Boyfriend has been in the role of therapist for the past 24 hours. (It's a temporary gig.) I have been struggling with the idea of life and how it passes and how if someone has a few years on you, then that might not mean that you are forever young but rather invariably infantile.

Yet Bill says that you cannot compete with someone's history (no doy) not even your own (holy shit!).

I have been feeling insecure and thinking of what I can do for myself. I was thinking that probably as life goes on I'd be happy just to have a cup of coffee be able to linger where I leave it for a couple of hours. Or I'd be happy to have salt and pepper shakers in the shape of my favorite animal. I was thinking that life would get increasingly complex and I would be happy just to have one material pleasure, however in poor taste, that would be truly my own.

I guess I'm afraid of losing myself as I get older. As I see how my beliefs change and sometimes harden. I cling to distinctions as a way to remind myself how I am not naive, simplistic, uncaring and how I am . . . multi.

I get sad thinking that my good qualities, the very best of myself, are things that remain unrecognized. To pull off what I have pulled off . . .! [Self-pity! Unattractive.]

Tangible example: I was going to celebrate a personal milestone with a little vacation. Yet events in my personal life dictated that this vacation be postponed and since it's been put off, I'm finding it difficult to make reservations and create the trip I had in mind. I could do a half-assed version, but that feels really uncomfortable to me. So, instead, I've decided to put that money towards some car repairs. Pragmatic.

Bill is very pragmatic, and I hate succumbing. I just do. It's just so obvious. Yet I realize the thrill of driving around waiting for a belt to snap is not the type of unobvious adventure I really want to have in my life.

I ask Bill whether postponing a vacation is just like when I set aside the trillion other things I say I'm going to do and want to do. My distressing example: the mom of a character in a young adult novel I'm reading who is an adjunct professor because she has a hard time finishing things, like a PhD.

Bill says I need to give up the guilt. I search the library for books on guilt and get pissed off because most any guilt advice is also connected to being a woman, mom, white, German or not German, and/or a Christian.

I don't have guilt related to any of those things! I just have guilt because I'm full of potential (that's probably wasted) and because I can't save anyone let alone my own dumb self because there's not much that I need to be saved from. Other than this guilt, probably.

Bill says just because I put something off (at this point in our conversation, my planned trip the gym becomes a distant memory and something else to demonstrate how I don't do what I say I'm going to do) doesn't mean that I've given up.

I think, "Oh, yeah. I don't really give up." I have the distant realization that all the preposterous things I believe in I really do believe in. I guess it's just hard to look at my life and see how any of those things can come into being--it is disjointed.

However, I look at the different periods in my life and see how disjointed they have been so far. Each different time seems to have its own tone or color--a certain timbre. Each time I have felt certain about where I was going or where I have been. This is perhaps the first time where I don't have a particular storyline for myself and this may be what scares me the most. That sense that nothing could happen to me in my life.

But this is a sense of despair and it's not one that I subscribe to. It has just come over me lately and I have felt bewildered by it.

[And as Mitt Romney's dad once told Mitt Romney, keep working through despair. (He just could have amended the advice to say that despair is in order if you are mostly a total liar and socio-economical elitist.)]

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