My way or the highway

The other week, when I was talking to S2 about the burning ritual described in a previous blog entry, she asked if I was concerned about the "hole" it would leave in my life.

What with me having no family (such as it is or was) and all.

She further wondered if she herself would have the courage to look at such a thing if it were in her own life. How does one accept the absence of something as important as a family? How does one accept you don't have what you want most and might never get?

With a touch of the absurd bravado that seems to run in my genes, I replied, Nah. That hole was already there. I've been looking at it for a long time, waiting for it to fill, and this is really more about just acknowledging its emptiness. Then maybe I can move on.

Let me tell you something: That's easier said than done. Particularly that part about acknowledging the lack of something so strongly desired and then moving on.

Ever since that little burning ritual of mine last weekend, something has been amiss within me. I suppose it actually started a little bit before I went off and did all that psychic cleansing, but the actions I took at the little itty bitty firepit have had some ripple effects.

My biological family? I covered that pretty well. That ritual was a powerful way to symbolize something that I already knew to be true. I can't count on those people and shouldn't hold any expectations of that changing. So I let them all go, one by one.

(Interestingly, my sister called me today in search of support for herself, the first time she has *ever* done such a thing. She has some strange neurological problem that I can tell is starting to scare her -- even though she'll only admit to it being "a nuisance," what with her legs going numb and not working.

She said, "I'm too tired to work, too alert to nap, too crabby to read and daytime television is too vapid for me to tolerate another minute of it, so I thought I'd call you." This comment brought with it an awareness that I did, in fact, let go of something in that burning ritual. I replied only, I'm glad you called. Just because I burned her in effigy last week doesn't mean I don't want to be there for her. We're all on our own paths in life. She's on a particularly odd one right now.)

But in the week since the ritual, I've become aware that I didn't let go of enough. There's one really huge thing sticking in my craw these days, a persistant bit of misbehaving on my part that is Exhibit A in my own Insanity Defense.

When it comes to a particular slice of my life -- forgive me for being vague but it's the only decent thing to do in this forum -- I've managed to lose track of myself. I sold out. I stopped being the UCM you all know and love and ... well, I *adjusted,* to put it nicely. I lost my center. I changed. Distorted myself, really.

This is the worst kind of thing -- certainly the most painful -- that I manage to do to myself. Fortunately, I don't do it very often. But when I do, it's devastating. And it usually takes me a good long while to figure out what I've gone and done. Because even though I can pinpoint a particular moment in a coffee house on a Saturday morning back in 1994 or so as the beginning of one of the more gut-wrenching experiences I've had with losing myself, it usually only becomes clear in hindsight just what I've done.

More than anything, I need to be true to myself. For as long as I can recall, I've been the kind of person who takes a stand -- and who has often taken it on the jaw for doing so. One of things I value most in myself and in others is integrity in communication, in speaking as much as possible (and with respect for others) with authenticity.

And yet, in an extremely significant and poignant way, I have not been doing this.

That's got to stop. And so it shall.

I had already decided that when I picked up the Willy Week and read my horoscope this evening. Now, I'm not all into astrology or anything, but I always appreciate a coincidence. Thus, I'll share with you all a sliver of this week's advice: "The cosmos is giving you permission to be unapologetically vivacious and mischievously blunt as you say, 'It's my way or the highway.' "

I don't need the cosmos' permission, per se. But I'll take it. It sounds like a hell of a hall pass.

I'm not exactly sure how to fix the mess I've made this time. I'll take some time to think about it. But there's no question I'll be reclaiming that which I wrongly gave away. Don't take it personally. I love you all. But I need me back.