How Am I Going To Do This?

Alright back to "business" after the supremely bizarre detour that was my last blog. ..

                                             Questions/Conclusions

How do you say goodbye to the only people that matter?
Just pack up the junk and leave the most important stuff behind?
How could I be marginalized by the only people in the world I have to love?
I matter so little.
Especially when I really didn't do anything wrong --
Except, perhaps, not accomplishing enough that was right.
How can she think that I don't adore her?
Or if she does know, not care that I do?
Did I not always meet her with a smile, caress her with true affection and tenderness,
Care for her tirelessly, quite perfectly, when she was hurt or ill?
Did we not, endlessly, resuscitate each other --  in "Borderlands?"
Kneel beside each other flush with Christ, souls a'soarin' after Eucharist?
What made her decide she knows better than God,
And reduce Sacrament to capricious whim?
Why should I lose everything I worked for and cared about for over a decade?
With nothing to show for it except a wounded heart?
This is my home too, damn it!
Where do I go from here?
Is nothing and no one preferable to the company of (pen)ultimately-wonderful me?
Maybe I'm not nearly as wonderful as I believe...
Nah -- she's just gone nuts.


Here's the plan:

1. Pack up everything I own somehow... I have tubs! (Gonna need more.) It's a little more complicated than it seems as I had an accident 3 years ago that is still causing a few, not inconsiderable, "limitations." ( That's for a future Blog -- for those keeping track -- that's the Ouija board story and "The Accident" I may eventually share.)  
2. Get a couple of "friends" to help me load up a U-Haul. (Darn, too late to make some! Guess I can pay people.)
3. Have them drive the truck down while I drive myself and the dog. I haven't decided if I should take both dogs. (Crystal says it's up to me.) I don't think my daugger (Willow) would care one way or another; they hardly acknowledge each other's existence. The piss-Yorkie (obviously a breed)  has been a royal-pain since day-one with it's indiscriminate, nitrogenous discharges-- I remember the day Crystal called me from her office: "Honeeeey..." she crooned, "How much do you love me?" So came into our home one adorable, somber "Raisin-Cain." He of equally stout heart as stature.   The "raisin" was soon dropped and "Cain" (or, as I often call him: "Little Guy;)" spent the next 6 years obliviously pissing on everything and anything and seemingly despising me in our endless "alpha" jockeying. He recently developed severe allergies -- which took nearly 6 mos. to get under control. (A "cure" that is probably only temporary as steroids have limited efficacy.) It must also be understood that I am not merely the dog's primary care-giver, I am pretty much their sole caregiver... and because I am the "villain" that needs to repeatedly wash, trim, cut nails and administer medicines -- I'm not his favorite person. (You would think the feeding would make up for it.) However, Cain sure does loves his mama -- for that matter,  so does Willow. I guess I'm going to have to explain to her that Mama, "Bubba" and "little guy" went with the angels to see Jesus."  I'm not looking forward to that (one sided) conversation.  How do people with actual children cope? How hard that must be! I consider myself almost fortunate. Although, I'm pretty sure that if Crystal was able to have children we would have had at least two by now and none of this would be happening. Then-again, as she is experiencing a metanoia of her own -- if  we did have kids this al could have been much, much worse.) 
4. Get back to work, and stop feeling sorry for myself. 

Alright -- not much of a plan -- but it's what I've got. I've decided to leave "Little Guy" with his mom. And if he doesn't adjust well I'll come and get him. )  At least that will minimize the piss damage in the Orlando home as a lot of the tubs (targets) will be put-up prior to the determination of whether or not he needs to be with me. (There isn't any question with Willow -- she's all I have left -- and we're "beings-entwined."  (Whatever that means.) 

Mid-Life Metanoia :A Journey Begins

  

     In Carl Jung's psychology, metanoia indicates a spontaneous attempt of the psyche to heal itself of unbearable conflict by melting down and then being reborn in a more adaptive form... Jung's concept of metanoia influenced R. D. Laing and the therapeutic community movement which aimed, ideally, to support people whilst they broke down and went through spontaneous healing, rather than thwarting such efforts at self-repair by strengthening their existing character defenses and thereby maintaining the underlying conflict.     Metanoia: Wikipedia Article   

     Metanoia -- yeah.

     I don't mean to sound pretentious -- it fits. 

     There are psychological, theological and rhetorical uses of the word -- they all fit.  

     There comes a stage in one's life,  in my life,  where "pretense" is about as productive as swallowing a WMD.

     Blinding flash! Truest desires, needs and capabilities -- dissolve. 

    Recently, and to my shame, it came to, glaring, light that I failed miserably. Not all at once,  but over an extended period. (That's where the shame comes in.)  And no, not for anything I did, it's more about what I failed to do. 

     With my failure I lost my only friend. I am terrestrially (and terribly) alone. (But more on that later...I can't start feeling sorry for myself; it is too destructive, too easy, and is counter to everything I want to accomplish with your help. You deserve better -- I deserve better. )

     So what I need for now is Metanoia : correction, repentance, healing -- CHANGE.

     I don't want this blog to be a confessional... it would bore you to death. (I'm probably already succeeding on that level.) 

     I want it to be about virtue, truth and self-discovery; about courage, strength and rising to accept and embrace my destiny. (Is it pretentious to believe I have a destiny?) 

     Do not despair -- I certainly have plenty of "tawdry" tales to share -- both wild and true. many of which, I suppose will eventually  make their way here. 

     In these pages, on these screens -- I will reach out to you as a voice calling from the deepest, darkest woods -- that is, after-all, just where I am; lost and alone. 

     Fearful... yes.; but faithful too -- 

     Someone very special  is listening (reading) and drawing closer with each new shout.   

     I will discuss LOVE -- in all it's agonizing, glorious, eternal and fleeting manifestations -- and right-here/  right-now I vow to never fear Love's grand embrace, though Her joyous soul-grip must inevitably drop away.

   (She said to me: "I love you, I'm just not 'in love' with you anymore." To which I replied: "What are you, fifteen?")  

     Here, I shall chart my journey from sick and bloated, cynical, man-child; one long-separated from productive societal interaction; to fit and functional citizen of the world -- a man as great as my God intended for me to be.  

     I may even find a friend or two in the process.  (Wow -- that sounds exhausting and exhilarating in equal measure. )          

     The one Truth I know so far: I can't accomplish this journey (my Metanoia) alone.       

     I am counting on you faithful reader/friend (?) to call me to task for my failings (especially those beyond  my limited sphere of perception) as well as laud me for my triumphs as this will be my fuel to carry me onward and upward -- eventually to the stars. 

     In turn, I will try my best to be there for you. 

     Laugh and cry with me -- travel with me, grow with me -- change with me.   

     

     For the greatest Truth is, indeed, beyond perception.