Well, I’ve been getting complaints from family members at least about my lack of posts. So since I’ve turned in one of my big projects, with a final lack of caring about the final grade, I thought I’d get back to journaling a bit.
I’ve been pondering about what to journal. Should I talk about the family trauma that my brother has set in motion. This week, I popped in for part of his weekly family therapy sessions at his rehab program. It was his last week, and I just wanted to stop by to show support before the whole thing was over. And of course that was the day that he got kicked out of rehab because he had sexual relations with another patient.
Now, when we were called into the office, my first thought was surely this is bad – because I always think that being called to the office is bad – but I also had in my mind a thought that the director was going to comment that Jason had just been a great asset to the program. When we walked in, he informed us that Jason was going to be asked to leave. Jason said it was because he’d had sex with another patient. My first thought was, oh my god, you had sex with a guy? That was straightened out soon enough. My second thought was, oh well at least he wasn’t doing drugs.
However, my sense of relief was soon destroyed when it turned into a bit of a dramatic session. My mom was angry because Jason was really showing no remorse for the action – though he seemed a bit sorry that he got caught. And at this time, my mind was mentally moving through the faces from the therapy room to figure out which girl he’d had sex with – during which time I seemed to miss several key points of the conversation. I did notice that Jason’s hands were trembling at the beginning of the session. Which told me that he was upset – or anxious. And after that my only true contribution was that man, he’s being such a bully- which he is. When we were talking about that later, my mom said that she felt that I was a bit of a bully as well – or at least manipulative – not going to go into that here – or ever –
It was however a rather good excuse not to go walking at the park – been finding way too many of those.
There were some points of the conversation that struck me – that I let passed uncommented on – at one point my brother mentioned that he felt that he had been neglected during his childhood – which surprised me. I had never really considered myself neglected. I have some of my own issues with my childhood rearing – and who doesn’t – but I don’t know – I guess I figure that there are two basic types of people in the world – those who make excuses and those who don’t. I mean if Jason wants to blame his drug use on the pressures of helping out grandma, or of running the barber shop, or paying back small business loans, or on having a difficult childhood, or post traumatic stress syndrome from the gulf war – well I guess he can use those as excuses. But really what’s the point. Today is what it is. I can’t change my past – though I can change how I choose to remember or deal with the past. I can use it as an excuse to not try or to fail. Or I can just get on with the business of living. A small business loan is no different than a home mortgage and I’m sure no more than one. I don’t perhaps I’m not sensitive enough – which could be true – I’ve never considered myself to be a very sensitive person – I’m not very good at saying the right or polite thing – I’m often surprised that I hurt someone’s feelings (usually Vickie’s when she asks me about some fashion thing - - but who knows how many other people fall prey to my general insensitivity). I try to focus on what I can control, what I can change – and if I can’t get my way – well I’ll do what I can to make the reality I want to exist the actual reality – but when it doesn’t work out – well then I am able to let go. Case in point – Atticus, my dog. The neighbor took her – I had David Cole write a scary lawyer letter, called the police, and then wrote a I hope you feel really, really guilty letter. And after that, well I said I did all that I could do and let it go. And then of course, an old friend of mine found her at her house, called Patti (without knowing what was going on) and now Atticus is back at my house. Or going to talk to Mr. Tinius, the superintendent, about how incompetent our staff members are when it comes to classroom management. I suppose for me it’s about doing what I can to mold the world, my world, the way I want it to be – and if I can’t mold the world – well then I have to accept it, and work within it the best I can. But my world is very, very small. I don’t worry about changing international policy or the president (who I hate by the way), or the government or politicians in general – those things are beyond my capabilities – nothing I can do or say is going to change what will happen in those areas. I can vote – which I do – and I can write a letter to my congressmen if something bothers me – which I also do – but I don’t expect great things from those – and I don’t not pay taxes because things don’t go my way.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to deal with the world around me – I don’t feel that this is necessarily a dysfunctional way of working my way through the world -- though others may disagree – but well, I don’t really care – it works well – And because I feel that I can change my small world, I get to maintain a general sense of optimism about the world around me – and looking at life optimistically is not a bad place to be at all.
