my careless contagion

Recently, I came across the term "echoism," which is described more in-depth in an article here (originally from a post on themighty.com) than I can get into. The article hit home for me; maybe I could even see myself reflected in it. Heh. Most people know the story of Narcissus and Echo, so I won't touch on that, but I will state that every Narcissus needs an Echo, and vice versa. The post on themighty.com focuses on narcissistic parents, which if I think about it long enough, I can say that at least one of them deserves that label, while the other one could be categorized as fragile (or a fragile narcissist). It's possible both could take that title, though. I'm not really concerned about making that declaration, especially because the Bible tells us to honor our father and mother, with the promise of having a long life. Honestly, though, I'm not interested in having a long life, so who cares? I think one of my brothers probably qualifies as a narcis...

A Scientific American article here purports that much of the "mindfulness" trending in our culture is perhaps not what people need. Yes, mindfulness can help one recover more quickly from a bad experience or lend clarity to the future, but intense experiences — good and bad — do more to define us than anything else.  Why do I care about this? I'm 41 years old. Am I not defined yet? Well, I made a pretty big midlife U-turn, which caused me to wonder who I was exactly. What is my new life supposed to look like? In short, yes, I need some defining.  When I was in high school, I remember reading an article about a girl from my school who went to Europe. She said her favorite part of the trip was touring a WWII concentration camp. I thought that sounded ridiculous. What a sad experience, I thought! But, you know what, that experience and the intensity of it, is what helped define this young woman. What I saw as horrible was pure gold to her.  There are many times wh...

Written in 1987 and released in 1990, the song Ball and Chain is found on Social Distortion's self-titled album. Some of the timeless themes this song deals with are addiction, hopelessness, heartbreak, poverty, failure, and suicide — all themes I am intimately familiar with — and all made life feel like a ball and chain and not worth living. I know what it's like to think, "I can't take any more pain." This is a song I know by heart but heard yesterday on the radio, which isn't entirely strange, except I'm not sure how many people are familiar with Social Distortion in South Dakota or how many of them are listening to the radio on a Sunday afternoon. That's okay; we don't have to know what we're listening to in order to enjoy it, right? Well, except Social Distortion sings a lot of "hard luck" songs, which are an acquired taste. As Social Distortion's singer, Mike Ness, has been known to say, "We don't sing no happ...

Divorce changed me. I mean, that was the point. It was supposed to change my life, but something else happened along the way.  It's been more than six years (seven years?) since I first breathed those words out, "I'm going to leave you," to my now ex-wife. The things I've gone through in that time — first trying to save the sinking ship of my marriage and then setting the damn thing on fire — have penetrated into the very core of my being. There are phases of grief. We all know that. You don't really think about them as you're going through them, though; you just don't have that kind of perspective. It's not a linear process, but a back and forth, messy thing sometimes. But, after six years of having a heart "like a crime scene," today I feel at peace.  A divorce is like a war, but a war no one wins. It doesn't matter who came out better in the end. It doesn't matter what was lost or who got the couch (I still miss that c...

The future starts in our minds.  We have the most wonderful faculty between our ears — our imagination — that allows us to create, solve problems, and sometimes literally see into the future.  The future of me is a bleak prospect. I have endured tremendous setbacks and unimaginable pain in the last few years (with no one to blame but myself). As I lick my wounds, it's almost too easy to try to imagine my way out of this small place in which I've found myself. This is the key to my survival. I have to imagine a better future for myself and then believe in it.  There was a time in my nascent youth when I loved to draw. My artistic abilities were slightly above average, but I didn't pursue drawing because I saw a future in it. I just loved it. And all drawings start with a sketch, a few tentative lines at first and then bolder as the image takes shape. Before anything is put down on paper, however, it starts in the artist's imagination. The future of me is a bla...

My parents in 1984 surveying the house they were having built. I have this memory, but not because I actually remember it. I was too young to remember it, but the story was retold often enough by my mother that it seems like I actually have the memory.  I was very young. It was the mid-1980s. My parents had a house built (which went wildly over budget) in 1984 on Happy Hollow Street in a little town in the Southern Black Hills in South Dakota. Parents raised their kids a little differently then than they do now. There was also the matter of finances, which meant that a babysitter wasn't always possible. My parents had a colleague leave their company and start up a competing business across the street. In order to compete, they were putting in 100 hour weeks, both of them. This continued for years.  My mom didn't want to work, but my dad was the boss and women were working a lot in those days, so he said she should too. She started out as the bookkeeper, setting ty...

I don't know that I've ever been so disappointed with myself as I am right now. I can no longer hide from my actions, what I've done to someone so precious to me. The changes I've brought to her life have been many, and hurtful. When before there was a perfect family union – one girl and one boy, two parents who loved them – now there is a rift and brokenness and an unholy hole in everyone's hearts. This is my legacy. This is my torment. Love doesn't always look like what we think it should. Sometimes love is keeping your distance and minding your own business. I love the animals I see when I take my walks in the forest, but I do not try to touch them or take them home. I should have treated the woman I love the same way: look but don't touch. My eyes are red in the mirror as I start my day. My day ends the same way. I've been crying, but not for my own sake. I can see her, walking through the wasteland of her world, jus...