The new year, alas, is staggering in for it's visit with a bunch of old baggage which it has dragged down from the attic and which I really, really do not want to look at. The Universe is up to no good again, trying to insist that I grow and evolve. Actually, Life seems to be picking on just about everyone I know right now, not just me. Still, I could do without all this Divine remedial training. But it seems that we - all of us - are in a healing season and since the Universe is a rather relentless (not unkind, really, just determined) teacher, there's no point resisting the lessons. It just makes them harder and more painful. Life lessons seldom retire from the field in defeat. Darn.
Most of my particular old baggage is being delivered by two of my most devoted friends from Demonalia - the Twin Ogres of GUILT (aka If Sombody's Unhappy It Must Be Your Fault) and NICENESS (aka The Only Right Answer is Yes). These two stinkers continue to howl in my ear at every opportunity and for some reason they are feeling particularly spunky right now. I'd bet that these two are familiar to just about every agoraphobic on the planet and many non-agoraphobics too. They are very devoted to their work and have lots of assistants whose aid they enlist in their determination to enforce misery.
The first suitcase is a big one. Friends of my estranged older brother have tracked me down with the news that my brother is not doing well either physically or emotionally and has been trying to get in touch with me. I'm pretty sure that I can predict with some accuracy what my brother's sad song will be, but I do love him and hate to close all doors to some form of reconciliation or healing. That said, I opened about a thousand different doors over a ten year period before I finally closed and locked the last one and each time I did so, another dagger got stuck into my heart. I'm not eager to revisit those old wounds. But I am a healer at heart and I hate the idea of anyone - even my big bad brother - suffering. And, yes, the temptation to make myself the "cause" of his pain is almost irresistible. That he - asked point blank by my therapist whether he would be willing to change his behavior at all in order to have a relationship with me - responded with "I don't think so," carries little weight with the Ogre Twins. He is suffering. Because of me. That it is because I decided to retire as his personal emotional dart board carries little weight with the insane Demonalian duo. Nice girls do not let their brothers or friends or cousins or uncles or nieces or landlords or the stranger down the road suffer. If there is suffering in the world, nice girls fix it. And if they can't fix it then they are to blame for it even if it has nothing at all to do with them. Such is the law of Demonalia. "He's your brother," the Demonalia guilt chorus whispers. "He's sick." And on and on they sing while niceness choir harmonizes with "to forgive is Divine" and other sage aphorisms on the subject of love. It is a masterwork that would impress even Bach in it's intricate interweaving of melodies. As the situation now stands, I have written to my brother's friends and said that I will accept correspondence through them. No other way and with no promise of love and kisses or kindness on my part. And the Ogre Twins are doing the dance of joy.
 |
| Here's the follow-up discussion on this article: | View all related messages |
For a complete listing of article comments, questions, and other discussions related to Katherine E. Rabenau's Agoraphobia topic, please visit the Discussions page.