Maman, Papa and me - not quite a social story, but Gray is a social idealist, and J/M S. 1/2 empty
Papa was a millionaire.
But he was a servant and steward.
He was a great argument for word-faith theology.
People looked at him, and then at me, and we were so blessed.
He was the only one for a long time who realised that I might have been a remedial student under the system, but it was the system that was wrong.
The system couldn't change but he decided to do this before he got a heart attack or something like that. Nursing me through life gave him focus during what must have been a crisis of his mid-life. He was, what, 30, 35, when I was hurt?
Unfortunately October 19 1987 happened. He could do nothing.
He was helpless and powerless and didn't handle it well.
Does this harbinger or hang well for the future?
Let's hope October 19 2007 will be lots better for everybody and we all get what we want!
And October 2 2008 - may Maman be wise and old.
May I have found a way to separate and individuate from her at long last.
The pressure is cooking my brains so I can no longer think.
And like Celine Dion says in the eighth track I feel too much - yes that exactly.
I feel like dry retching as I contemplate that I want to be like Maman.
She shows Buddhist virtues very well. Just not Christian ones.
Of course I couldn't tell her this: not after I shouted a lot of disagreeable things and mistook her for the people who hurt me and abused me and so did not mean to do it, or just acted out of their own inadequacies.
I still believe in human perfectibility. She believes perfection is inhuman, and that is how she separated from Papa.
I think I have so inherited his type A personality in some ways and fashions.
Papa will only be ever grounded when he is buried in the ground.
I fear I may go the same way.
Or I will go missing.
I'd rather be missing than dead.
Then my finding would connote hope and people would rally around the miracle.
I'd only have to do it for a day for people to worry.
I don't like to worry people for a second or even less than that.
I don't want to stretch people's faith more than a mustardseed.
So going missing would be a very big leap of faith.
The last time I was driven like this was when I was 15.
Even then I knew running solved nothing.
That's funny, because it did when I was little.
Maybe something to do with Grandin and the sliding glass door is at work here.
How did my role model handle questions of avoidance and approach?
There's something to learn here.
I have quite lost my drive to rage, rage, against the dying of the light.
Again: I want to regain and reclaim the night.
I'm sure I will.
I wish things didn't appear so final, so black and white.
I know real life never did have beginings and endings.
I wish people didn't tell lies to children. They must think they are preparing them for lying, cheating, stealing, betraying adults on the dirty earth - they must not think they are those adults. They have almost a teenage naivety and narcissism. That's what personality disorders are - the teenager inside who never quite get over being invalidated.
I did. That doesn't mean I don't have a PD.