12 Months – Dec. 2011

There are five posts to my 1001 Son Days tumblr account from this month.  The first one is about absurdity in life.  The second one is about being your own self, belonging to yourself as much as, or more than, to any one else.  The third is a GIF from My Friend Totoro (SUCH a beautiful and soothing film).  Then there are these two.



Our family split.  It was intensely painful.  

It is unclear to me why I have felt like an outsider my entire life.  Karma and early childhood may play a role.  Astrology and the path I chose to embark upon before incarnating in this body/time/place feels likely to me.  All I have ever wanted is connection.  All I have ever feared is rejection.  The narrative I have been telling myself for 30+ years is the one of the outsider wanting to be in, but fearing the same.  Maybe it is the artist’s role?

Feh also has outsider… let’s call them coordinates.  He stands on the outside, and I’m not sure what the narrative for him around that has been. Sometimes I think he also considers himself to be his own center and believes others should want to surround him of their own volition.

To be rejected, refused connection, by the person I dramatically committed my life and well-being to was the worst injury I could endure.  It taught me leagues about myself and perhaps that is the contract Feh and I made before we embarked on these paths on this plane.

There is a scar where that injury occurred.  Inside that scar lives the most tender point, for me, with my son.  He turned one-year-old away from his father and home.  To him, his father is some kind of light and warmth.  The tender, hurting part for me with my son is that out of my own pain and rejection, I rejected.  I disconnected from my son in very subtle, but effective ways, for those first two years.  It hurts that I did that, it hurts me to see behaviors in him that I can attribute to that.  I may be wrong about his behavior.  I may be practicing the habit of self-flagellation by telling myself that story.  And also, I let the guilt guide me.  It guides me to be more patient every day, slower moving, less reactionary and more accepting than I was a year ago.  So what they say about scars is true.  They are stronger than the skin around them.

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