I woke up today thinking about Gregor Samsa...who woke up one day and discovered that he was an insect. (Gregor - Kafka - The Metamorphasis) Twenty seven years after reading that in the God-Awful freshman humanities class (hi Jen) it dawned on me what had happened... I know what happened to Gregor, because it happened to me.
I woke up, one day, and no longer recognized myself. Everything familiar --- gone. I didn't know who I was anymore. I didn't know what I liked, what I liked to do, what I wanted to do, where I wanted to go...I gave up on my dreams, I gave up on all of my goals...Each day, every day, I got up, got dressed, and got through the day. Nothing more. When did it happen? How did I get there. And I say "there" because it was "there" and I am no longer "there". But I was. It was, I realized, a slow burn. An eroding of the soul. Each grain. Each small piece that didn't make a statement of it's own. I don't know how it started or why I had been so willing to give up things that made me happy, or brought me peace or just simply were fulfilling in some indescribable way. But, one day, all of those small grains, collectively known as "self" were simply gone. Washed away. As if they were never there in the first place.
Which makes me ask the bigger question...the question that has been haunting me for weeks as a distant echo, but now rings clear...Why, oh why, was I willing to give up so much for so little? And I don't have the answer yet, nor do I know if I ever, really will. What I do know, is that one day, as the last grain of self was quickly disappearing, I grabbed it. I held on to it. I was not going to let go. And I made an instant decision...never again would I be so willing to surrender that which I held dear. There would never be an other opportunity to erode my soul without knowing full well that I was voluntarily letting it go. The most remarkable thing happened. As I held on tightly to the final grain of soul, like a magnet, I was able to reclaim others that I was so willing to let go before. And so the journey begins...the journey to rebuild...I bought new hiking boots...can't wait to see where they take me.
If you don't know who Gregor is...Kafka...the Metamorphasis -- maybe nostalgia brought me back to Gregor...I walked yesterday at UCSD. The place where I first met Gregor nearly 30 years ago.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
Secrecy v. Privacy
Since my last blog, it's been an incredibly challenging season. The grief I hold for Alex is still viable and tests me every day. But it's taken on a new form. Through the haze of all that didn't make sense, my life was handed to me with brilliant clarity. Strange. And in conflict with the disproportionate price that was paid. But that boy handed me my life. That I know for sure.
This one has been rambling in my brain for so long. I am going to post it like this...raw. Because I can't, in any way articulate the cunundrum I am in when I try to reconcile the difference between secrecy and privacy. So, take it or leave it, here it is. My friend Wendy is the brain child of my blog. Why don't I usually mention her? Because about 90% of our conversations begin with the words..."I've got to tell you something...you swear you won't tell anyone"... Wendy and I should go down together because we share many secrets...or are these just issues of privacy? It's been an amazingly challenging time for me. I have come to learn that secrecy can be very dangerous, often carrying shame and so by it's sheer nature, develops the power of a giant tidal wave. Should the secret be exposed, the wave crashes to the shore. It seems so ominous, yet, the funny thing, is that just like the wave that crashes, once the secret is exposed, all the power is gone. It simply dissipates into the sand. And all that energy is diluted.
Privacy on the other hand is simply the level of discretion we use to exhibit respect we hold for ourselves or others.
By nature, I am a very private person. It is strange to some of my friends, because I am also very social. But what I've learned about myself is that I can talk to anyone about anything...anything that really doesn't matter. I'm also inherently interested in other people and so there is always room for conversation. When push comes to shove, however, it's only my nearest and dearest who know my deepest and darkest. (Unless some drug induced coma forces a drunk dial or something peculiar like that). You know who you are.
I'm a good secret keeper. Maybe too good. Because with a secret comes a huge level of responsibility. I would be lying if I said I have never shared a confidence. But, in the rare instances that I have, it would be under a circumstance that the recipient would not be able to identify the secret's owner. (there is an occasional very bad slip, but so rare it's hardly worth mentioning). My general philosphy on this...if someone tells me a secret, it isnt' MINE to share. It's only MINE to keep. Secrets are toxic. Secrets, with all the power of the tidal wave, create an environment of isolation and lonliness. Challenges seem insurmountable and juggling appearances to maintain an alternate reality so the secret isn't exposed, is simply exhausting.
I have struggled with the line. When does a privacy become so big that it builds into a secrecy, so powerful that it tears you down. At what point, have you gone from maintaining discretion to buidling a wall of shame. Is the line clear? Does it happen quickly? Or is it a slow burn, when one day you wake up and you have no idea how you got to where you are. You don't even remember the journey. When all of a sudden you notice that you are isolated and alone and desperate and looking for help. Only, you have forced yourself into isolation by allowing a privacy, which is another word for discretion, to grow so big you have given it more power than deserved and so it comes crashing until truth is revealed.
This has been my journey. And only now, as I write this, am I able to realize that think it has most to do with is trust and vulnerability. So I am left without answers, only the question remains. When does it become dangerous to allow a privacy to become a secret?
This one has been rambling in my brain for so long. I am going to post it like this...raw. Because I can't, in any way articulate the cunundrum I am in when I try to reconcile the difference between secrecy and privacy. So, take it or leave it, here it is. My friend Wendy is the brain child of my blog. Why don't I usually mention her? Because about 90% of our conversations begin with the words..."I've got to tell you something...you swear you won't tell anyone"... Wendy and I should go down together because we share many secrets...or are these just issues of privacy? It's been an amazingly challenging time for me. I have come to learn that secrecy can be very dangerous, often carrying shame and so by it's sheer nature, develops the power of a giant tidal wave. Should the secret be exposed, the wave crashes to the shore. It seems so ominous, yet, the funny thing, is that just like the wave that crashes, once the secret is exposed, all the power is gone. It simply dissipates into the sand. And all that energy is diluted.
Privacy on the other hand is simply the level of discretion we use to exhibit respect we hold for ourselves or others.
By nature, I am a very private person. It is strange to some of my friends, because I am also very social. But what I've learned about myself is that I can talk to anyone about anything...anything that really doesn't matter. I'm also inherently interested in other people and so there is always room for conversation. When push comes to shove, however, it's only my nearest and dearest who know my deepest and darkest. (Unless some drug induced coma forces a drunk dial or something peculiar like that). You know who you are.
I'm a good secret keeper. Maybe too good. Because with a secret comes a huge level of responsibility. I would be lying if I said I have never shared a confidence. But, in the rare instances that I have, it would be under a circumstance that the recipient would not be able to identify the secret's owner. (there is an occasional very bad slip, but so rare it's hardly worth mentioning). My general philosphy on this...if someone tells me a secret, it isnt' MINE to share. It's only MINE to keep. Secrets are toxic. Secrets, with all the power of the tidal wave, create an environment of isolation and lonliness. Challenges seem insurmountable and juggling appearances to maintain an alternate reality so the secret isn't exposed, is simply exhausting.
I have struggled with the line. When does a privacy become so big that it builds into a secrecy, so powerful that it tears you down. At what point, have you gone from maintaining discretion to buidling a wall of shame. Is the line clear? Does it happen quickly? Or is it a slow burn, when one day you wake up and you have no idea how you got to where you are. You don't even remember the journey. When all of a sudden you notice that you are isolated and alone and desperate and looking for help. Only, you have forced yourself into isolation by allowing a privacy, which is another word for discretion, to grow so big you have given it more power than deserved and so it comes crashing until truth is revealed.
This has been my journey. And only now, as I write this, am I able to realize that think it has most to do with is trust and vulnerability. So I am left without answers, only the question remains. When does it become dangerous to allow a privacy to become a secret?
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