Here’s my thing: Everyone should be free to believe what they want. I choose the Catholic faith. I have friends who are Muslim, Jewish and Atheist.
I only judge you by whether you’re a kind soul or an asshole.
Mood music:
http://youtu.be/KEeFNvvR-ng
But there’s always someone who thinks they’re better than everyone else — someone who is so certain their belief is the only right answer that they’ll go to extremes to put down people who feel a different way.
That’s when we get slogans like this:
This is apparently the brainchild of Victor Stenger — a slogan idea for the so-called Atheist Bus Campaign.
The message to me is this: Those who put all their faith in science never commit evil and always live for the greater good. Muslims, on the other hand, are twisted and evil and fly planes into buildings.
I think someone out there has gotten too sensitive about all those “evil scientist” stereotypes from the movies.
The bigger truth is that human beings twist everything: science, religion, systems of government. To suggest it never happens in your corner of the woods is to be fooling yourself.
You’re also dishonoring all the good people who died on Sept. 11, 2001. The terrorists had twisted Islam into some evil thing it’s not meant to be, and they killed Atheists, Christians, Jews and other Muslims that day.
You can say religion flies us into buildings, but science gives us potential mass killers as the nuclear bomb.
This post is about what happens to politicians when they try too hard to be someone else. Mitt Romney is in the thick of it. John McCain was four years ago, as was Al Gore eight years before that.
Mood music:
It’s not just a problem with politicians. Musicians have fallen in the trap. So have writers. I’ve been there myself.
In the desperate search for success and fame — and getting elected — it’s easy to try to be someone you’re not. The problem is that you inevitably get caught.
The Romney of today is not the Romney that was elected governor in liberal Massachusetts. His brand of conservatism was far more moderate a decade ago. When he decided he wanted to be president, he immediately shifted right. People see right through him, which is why he’s having so much trouble sewing up the Republican nomination.
It’s the same mistake McCain made in 2008, when he was trying so hard to please the right instead of being the straight-talking “maverick” that gave George W. Bush hell in the 2000 Republican primaries. Meanwhile, Al Gore was trying so hard to distance himself from Bill Clinton that he completely denied his role in shaping the policies of the Clinton Administration.
Voters could smell the rat every time.
It’s really no different from what you see elsewhere in life. When we’re not acting like our natural selves, the people who know us best take notice.
The more I talk to fellow recovering addicts and emotional defects, the more I realize we have one big thing in common: We want to please everyone and be loved for it.
I wanted desperately to make every boss happy, and I did succeed for awhile. But in doing so I damaged myself to the core and came within inches of an emotional breakdown. It caused me to work 80 hours a week, waking up each morning scared to death that I would fall short or fail altogether. I wanted to make every family member happy. It didn’t work, because you can never keep everyone happy when strong personalities clash.
In the face of constant let-downs, I binged on everything I could get my hands on and spent most waking moments resenting the fuck out of people who didn’t embrace me for who I am.
I won’t lie. I still struggle with that. It’s possible I always will. But I’m not running for office, so it’ll never be quite so glaring.
But no matter how small your world is, someone will always see through your phony exterior.
The problem for Romney is that his true colors are bleeding through on the big stage.
Life as a Catholic in the city of Haverhill, Massachusetts can be a bitch, sometimes. Here we are waking up to news that another priest, Rev. Robert Canole, has resigned from his pastoral duties in disgrace.
We look up to our priests and count on them for inspiration. We go in a confessional with them and spill our deepest, darkest faults. Then some of those priests let us down hard.
Conole’s resignation has been accepted by Cardinal Sean O’Malley, archbishop of Boston. He was investigated by the Archdiocese of Boston for “serious adult-related misconduct,” according to a statement read by the Very Rev. Arthur Coyle, episcopal vicar for the Merrimack Valley Region, during weekend Masses at Sacred Hearts.
I also wrote something when Father Keith LeBlanc, a former priest at my parish and most recently pastor of St. John’s across town, left in a hurry after it came to light that he was being investigated for mishandling church dollars. It turns out he spent $83,000 of church money on porno movies and got three years of probation after pleading guilty to larceny. That one really hurt because LeBlanc led my RCIA group the year I converted.
But I still believe in what I wrote at the time, which is that everyone fails and has a shot at redemption.
Sometimes I wonder how I can stick up for these priests. After all, how much can a Catholic take? These are the same priests who tell us how we should live, how we should vote and how we should treat others. Theoretically, I should be mad as hell.
And yet I’m not angry. Sad, yes. But not angry.
I still believe what I said before, that as human beings, we all fail frequently and have a chance to set things right.
I’ve written about my own failures a million times in this blog. I’d be a hypocrite if I ripped into these priests. I’d probably feel differently if I was the victim of a pedophile priest. But I’m not.
In the 11 years I’ve lived in Haverhill, Mass., I’ve seen the best and worst sides of the Catholic Church.
On the ugly side, there were priests who played a part in the sex abuse that ultimately blew up in Cardinal Law’s face. There are parishioners who get so caught up in church politics that they forget what they’re truly there for, and they make life miserable for others. There was Father LeBlanc.
On the other side of the spectrum was Father Nason going public about his alcoholism, inspiring us all with his comeback. And, most importantly, there are all the people who have found their faith in recent years regardless of whatever ugliness is in the headlines, including me.
We all fail, no matter what our position in life. The important thing is what we do with our failures.
I hope these disgraced priests find a way to turn their experiences into something we can all learn and benefit from. The jury is still out on whether that will happen.
But as I keep saying, my faith is in God, not the humans who serve the church for better and worse.
A combination of OCD and ADD has given me a bitch of a handicap: Living in the moment and being present has become tough as nails. Health experts call this elusive thing I search for “mindfulness.”
Mood music:
Here’s what happens:
When the OCD runs hot, I develop tunnel vision. I focus in on the task I’m either doing or thinking about. That’s good if you have a major work project to complete. It’s bad when someone is trying to talk to you and your brain is weaving a hundred schemes.
When the ADD picks up steam, I lose my focus. I’ll start thinking about a song I heard that day or how good it’ll feel to get into bed with a book. All while someone is talking to me.
I thought I stabbed this problem in the heart and killed it. On further reflection, I’m finding that the same problem has simply changed bodies like Dr. Who.
That in itself is still good, since the old persona was intense fear and anxiety that often incapacitated me. I broke out of that shell and life has been so much better as a result. But my current troubles are still painful.
Dealing with this issue has become the main focus of recent therapy sessions. I started bringing up the issue with my therapist because I’ve been realizing how unfair and hurtful zoning out can be at home. I don’t want to be that guy. And yet, for the moment, I am.
It’s not just a problem at home. Anywhere I go, when people are talking to me for anything longer than five minutes, I start to enter a fog. I still capture the main points of the conversation, but it requires heavy effort — effort that can be physically painful.
In recent weeks, I’ve considered what this handicap could cost me. My first reaction was to feel scared. That has settled into a low-grade anger.
Anger that I can’t just fix my brain and be done with it.
Anger that I have to do more therapy than usual.
Anger that the whole thing is exhausting me.
But that’s life. I have a problem, and I intend to beat it. And if I can’t beat it, I intend to figure out how to manage it.
At my age, I’m really not sure how much more I can fix. But even though I haven’t achieved perfection up to this point, the journey has been a beautiful one, full of experiences I never could have had a few years ago.
What lies ahead could be unpleasant. But as with past challenges, I may find gifts buried beneath the ugliness.
I don’t get why the Republican Party is bogging itself down in this contraception debate. In pandering to the religious groups, they’re ignoring the economic woes people care about most. That’s especially silly because the economy if an issue that’s big trouble for President Obama.
Would it not be wise to stick to the issue your opponent is weakest on? That’s my big question. But for me, a devout Catholic who is told every day by my church leaders that contraception is against God’s plan, the debate is more about hypocrisy.
Mood music:
http://youtu.be/60b7frLVoTc
When the right gets into this battle, which always involves a discussion about the lack of God in government affairs, it’s the same to me as the left suggesting government do everything for us. The right scornfully calls this socialist activism, which God supposedly frowns upon. But isn’t it also social activism to tell us whether we should have prayer in school, a law against gay marriage or a ban on contraception?
I always try to hold true to my Catholic beliefs. Among other things, I oppose abortion. But that’s what I choose to believe.
Religious freedom to me doesn’t mean the right for one religious denomination to control what everyone does. It’s really about the right for people to practice their religious beliefs regardless of whether it’s Islam, Christianity, Judaism, Buddhism or Atheism without fear of government punishment.
I have the freedom to try to be the best Catholic I can be, but in the end it’s my responsibility, not the government’s. I agree with my friend Lori MacVittie, who said “Never confuse the will of the majority with the will of God.” She’ll probably disagree with much of this post, but that’s fine by me. I like when the truly smart people disagree.
As for contraception, the Catholic Church doesn’t believe in it. But it’s not forbidden in every religion. So why are Republicans going at it as if it were?
This debate has turned mean. I’ve never really cared for Rush Limbaugh. He’s a blowhard who throws bombs because his ratings go up whenever he does. That’s why he called Georgetown Law Student Sandra Fluke a slut for testifying before Congress in favor of birth control as part of health care coverage. Calling someone a slut is ratings gold. Those who advocate a boycott of his sponsors miss the point. The only way to silence this asshat is to get people to stop listening to him. When people stop showing up, that’s when the sponsors walk away.
Rush knows this. He also knows there are enough mean-spirited people in the country to keep his career coasting along.
Where does God stand on the matter? A lot of people think they know the answer, but they don’t, really. They are not God, and neither am I.
All I know is that people are mean in how they choose to stand up for their beliefs. As a Catholic, I fail to see where the Christian love and grace is in that.
This is not a defense of the Obama Administration or the left.
This is simply the lament of a guy who believes in God and in pragmatic government.
Here we are starting another season of Lent, where Catholics the world over give up something they like for 40 days in an effort to honor the sacrifice Jesus made for everyone. Sean has given up the computer. Erin is TV-free. Duncan put aside the chocolate.
Mood music:
What have I given up? Nothing.
It’s not for lack of faith or gratitude. It’s not even the move of a curmudgeon who doesn’t like to follow the rules. It’s just that I’ve given up everything already.
I no longer smoke.
I no longer drink.
I don’t eat flour or sugar, which means I don’t eat candy.
As for giving up coffee, my family won’t let me. They fear the monster I would become (not that I’d ever give up coffee anyway).
Instead, I’m going to try and build something: My communication skills.
You might be thinking that’s ridiculous. I communicate in this blog all the time, after all. I’ve told you about every skeleton in my closet.
The thing is, for all my ability with the written word, I suck at face-to-face communication, especially when my mind is in a depressed fog. The folks who suffer the most for this are those closest to me.
I’ve tried hard to demolish the wall I hide behind when my mind isn’t right. But whenever I think I’ve made progress, shit happens and I find it’s taller and thicker than ever.
Far as I can tell, I do make progress, but then I take my eye off the wrecking ball and the wall rebuilds itself when I’m busy internalizing everything.
For all the sharing I do in this blog, sometimes it’s still ridiculously hard to open up to those closest to me. One reason is that I’m still a selfish bastard sometimes. I get so wrapped up in my work and feelings that it becomes almost impossible to see someone else’s side of things.
I also don’t like to be in a situation where there’s yelling. There was plenty of that growing up, and I tend to avoid arguments with loved ones at all costs. Putting up a wall can be a bitch for any relationship, because sooner or later bad feelings will race at that wall like a drunk behind the wheel of a Porsche and slam right into it. Some bricks in the wall crack and come loose, but by then it can be too late. Relationships are totaled.
I’m starting to believe this is a chronic condition hardened by my early history. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to sit here and accept it.
Working on that communication is like building a better wrecking ball to smash the wall with. It’s a goal worthy of Lent, methinks.
That Rick Santorum really sets people off. He doesn’t like gays serving in the military, or women for that matter. He thinks Satan is taking over America through rock music. People either love him or want to see him vaporized.
Mood music:
Is he really THE presidential candidate for true Catholics, as some of my church friends suggest? Is he really the evil, hateful soul some of my non-Catholic friends make him out to be?
The following is my take on the former Pennsylvania senator, who is giving Mitt Romney hell in the fight for the Republican nomination for president. It’s how I, as a devout Catholic, see him.
Let me be honest up front: I never liked Rick Santorum when he was a senator. I always found his passion for mixing church with state maddening. I even hated that smirk of his.
As I’ve gotten older and found my faith, I still don’t like him much. But I don’t hate him like I used to. He’s fighting for his beliefs, which is the right of every American. I still think some of his rhetoric is zany, but he’s as free to engage in stupid talk as everyone else.
In my opinion, he would be a disaster as president. But that’s just me.
As a guy who goes to church every Sunday, takes his faith seriously and spends a lot of time with people in his church community, I see Santorum as a reflection of the people I mix with every day.
I have some close friends that are far more socially conservative than I could ever be. Mine is a much more rebellious brand of Catholicism. I refuse to view homosexuality as a disease or a lifestyle choice for two reasons: I don’t think people choose to be gay, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with them for being gay. I reject the idea that your vote for president should be solely based on whether the candidate supports Roe V. Wade. If you have to label me pro-life or pro-choice, I’d have to say I’m pro-life. Abortion as birth control is evil to me. But I also think the labels are stupid. Pro-choice is not the same as pro-abortion as a lot of my friends make it out to be. And hating abortion certainly doesn’t make you pro-life.
But I’m not voting for someone on that issue alone. You can share my views on abortion but be incompetent in every other way. I’m voting for president, not bishop.
Like I said, I’m a rebellious Catholic. All that matters to me is that I have Jesus in my life. The rest is politics perpetuated by human beings.
Santorum is like a lot of my church buddies. Gay people make him squirm. He also gets self righteous and points his nose down at people who are not 100 percent like-minded. But I don’t think he’s evil.
A lot of the friends I disagree with on these issues would give you the shirt off their backs. We look after each other’s children and have complete trust in one another. We even like a lot of the same music. Some of the most religiously devout people I know are Metallica fans.
We don’t really discuss politics. We talk about our jobs, our families, Boy Scout activities and cigars (though I don’t smoke them anymore). We have deep discussions about addiction and mental illness, because we all have it in our families. On the rare occasion politics enters the conversation, we bust each other’s balls, laugh and move on.
I suspect Rick Santorum is pretty much the same way when he’s not in front of the cameras. He’s probably a decent human being who would help his neighbor in a time of need.
But if any of my friends ran for office, I wouldn’t vote for them.
It’s nothing personal. I just find some of their ideas zany, and they feel the same about me.
Santorum doesn’t strike me as evil. He does, however, strike me as the wrong guy to put in the White House.
As a devout Catholic, I am outraged by Retired New York Cardinal Edward Egan’s “regrets” about apologizing for the priest sex abuse scandal. Here is a man who thinks the Church “did nothing wrong” in how it handled the crisis.
Mood music:
Countless children were sexually molested by men who had vowed to serve God. The Catholic Church decided to cover it up and move pedophile priests to other parishes where they could prey on others, instead of reporting them to the police like they should have done.
A decade after the scandal was blown wide open, the stains remain. A lot of healing and forgiveness has happened, but there are people who are never coming back. There are adults who will have nightmares for the rest of their lives because of what these priests did to them. There are a lot of good people who would make good priests who will never go down that path because of what happened.
And what does Egan have to say about all this in an interview he did with Connecticut Magazine? He regrets apologizing for the Church’s criminal behavior.
“I don’t think we did anything wrong,” he said.
He says he wasn’t obligated to report abuse claims because he inherited the cases from his predecessor. In other words, since the evil didn’t happen on his watch, he was under no obligation to do anything about it.
The problem, Cardenal Eagan, is that as a servant of God, you are obligated to do something about evil.
Here’s more from The Huffington Post:
In court documents unsealed in 2009, Egan expressed skepticism over sexual abuse allegations and said he found it “marvelous” that so few priests had been accused over the years.
In the recent interview, Egan was asked about a letter he wrote to parishioners in 2002 saying “if in hindsight we discover that mistakes may have been made as regards prompt removal of priests and assistance to victims, I am deeply sorry.”
“First of all I should never have said that,” Egan responded, according to the magazine. “I did say if we did anything wrong, I’m sorry, but I don’t think we did anything wrong.”
Egan said in the interview that he sent accused priests to treatment.
“And as a result, not one of them did a thing out of line. Those whom I could prove, I got rid of; those whom I couldn’t prove, I didn’t. But I had them under control.”
Egan also said he was not surprised that “the scandal was going to be fun in the news, not fun but the easiest thing to write about.”
As for reporting claims to authorities, he said, “I don’t think even now you’re obligated to report them in Connecticut.”
“I sound very defensive and I don’t want to because I’m very proud of how this thing was handled,” Egan said.
Pathetic.
I’ve been asked many times over the years how I could have Faith in an institution that has done so much evil in its history.
My answer is the same now as it’s always been:
I believe Jesus Christ died for our sins. Believing in Him is my lifeline in a life where I’ve made many, many mistakes.
The Christian faith is like any other good thing on this Earth: There are always flawed mortals around to distort it and use it for their own personal gain. I believe in Democracy, even if it’s crawling with corrupt politicians right now.
The idea is what I try to live by. Not the rules and politics that contradict what it’s all about.
Since Egan just set us back a few years in the healing-progress department, I’m digging up some advice I wrote last year for some people who were in the middle of becoming Catholic. Whenever charlatans like Egan talk, I always try to remember these points:
1. Don’t Succumb to “Happily-Ever-After” Syndrome.
Even though I knew deep down that it wouldn’t be the case, I approached the days leading up to my conversion in a high of sorts; feeling like it would be happy forever more once I was Baptized. In some ways that is how it turned out. But for me, things got a whole lot worse before they got better.
The sins I had accumulated up to that point were forgiven that night, but the demons remained a few steps behind me, ready to trip me into another garbage can.
I continued to indulge my over-sized ego and stay absorbed in all things me.
Some of my most self-destructive, addictive behavior took place AFTER my Baptism.
2. Peace IS NOT The Absence of Chaos. It’s a State of Mind (or, if you really want to get technical, a state of being in God’s Grace).
My own world used to be pure chaos. Self-loathing dripped from my pores and I had a craving for peace. I wanted all the violence and worry to go away. It didn’t.
But that’s OK.
I’ve learned that peace is a state of mind, not the absence of chaos. It’s a feeling and mental clarity that comes over you as your Faith deepens. It didn’t just smack me in the back of the head one morning. It’s a state of mind that slowly grew over time.
3. What You Get is Only As Good As What You Put In
Here is what you might call an open secret: spiritual well-being isn’t just handed to you like an entitlement or a birthday present. You have to work hard at it everyday. Working it takes many forms.
Service is a big one. Getting to Mass every week is important.
But you have to do more. You have to go on retreats like Cursillo, which will be as life-changing an event for you as the Baptism was. I’ve been on two retreats since my conversion: Cursillo and an ACTS retreat the year before that. The soul searching and sharing you do on these weekends is priceless.
Then there are programs like Lenten Longings, where you keep studying Scripture and discussing it in a group, in context with your daily life struggles.
I’ve gotten a lot from lectoring as well. By getting up in front of everyone and doing the readings, I’m better able to actually understand what the readings mean. And when you actively participate in the Mass, you’re less likely to fall asleep.
And go to Confession often. You won’t believe how good it feels to get rid of the mental trash until you do it.
4. Don’t Let Politics Get in the Way
An active Parish community is like any other community: There are a lot of folks with strong ideas who will butt heads, especially in a Parish like ours where there’s a school attached.
You also might not like everything the priest tells you every week.
People always use these things as excuses not to practice their Faith. Don’t let it happen to you.
All that matters is your own relationship with God. You have to move beyond the politics of human nature and remember the big picture.
I like to compare it to American government. We may not like the President or the Senator in office at any given time, but most of us stay devoted to our country and way of life. So maybe you have a problem with the priest. The priest is human like the rest of us, open to making mistakes. But most of the ones I’ve known do their best and get it right more than they get it wrong.
And there will always be bad seeds out there who twist religion to fit their own sinister goals, taking a lot of people down the hellhole along the way. The Manson Family is a perfect example.
Just remember: It comes down to you and your relationship with God.
If you invest too much of your Faith in the organizational/political/administrative structure, you’re looking in the wrong place and will almost certainly be dissapointed.
5. Plan to Fight the Good Fight to Your Dying Breath
I’ve come a long way in my spiritual growth. With God’s help I’ve overcome crippling addiction and depression and I know more peace today than I ever have.
But boy, I can still screw up with the best of ‘em.
My most destructive addictive behaviors are under control, but I’m always tap dancing from one habit to another. [More on that in “Addicted to Feeling Good: A Love-Hate Story“].
There are still days where I come to church with a crappy attitude. My mind will be on everything else but God. A perfect example is in the post “Rat in the Church Pew.”
This is for those who believe in a higher power — especially the messed-up Catholics among us. Those who might take offense should go away and come back tomorrow. I won’t think any less of you.
In the Catholic Faith, there’s a Sacrament of Reconciliation — modern language for going to confession. Duncan did it for the first time Saturday. Sean, Erin and I used the occasion to do it, too.
Because you tell your sins to an also-flawed human being (the priest), a lot of people are turned off. I got past that by realizing the priest is really just a direct phone line to God. He doesn’t have to be pure as the driven snow to fill the role.
Mood music:
Being the screw-up that I am, I need to empty the trash from my soul every few months. The poison is constantly building up in my system — anger, resentment, narcissism, selfishness.
Simply put, Confession is where I go to unload all the things I keep doing wrong. It’s just me and the priest. It’s a moment of truth, where I can be honest about myself before God and let the accumulated angst, guilt and exhaustion drip away.
For those of you who have different beliefs, the concept may not make sense. You may even find the concept ridiculous. That’s you’re right.
I know a lot of good Catholics who struggle with it.
One guy I know hasn’t been to Confession in nearly a decade. Last time he went he listed his sins to a priest who was later convicted of sexual abuse. Why, he asked me one day, should he be telling his sins to someone who was supposed to be clean and trustworthy, but was in fact dripping with filth more foul than anything he could confess?
It’s a fair question.
I’m sure a lot of people in Haverhill are going through the same emotions over Father Keith LeBlanc, who allegedly used church funds to buy pornography. Is this the kind of person you want to go to to confess about having dirty thoughts when an attractive woman walks by?
The man who confessed to a sexually abusive priest is a good man. He raised four children who grew up to be pretty awesome. He’d give you the shirt off his back. He also continues to go to church almost every Sunday.
But he doesn’t go to Confession because he doesn’t believe he should be confessing to a priest who is full of sin himself.
It’s a shame he feels that way, because I think Confession would do him good. At the same time, I can’t blame him. That kind of anger takes a lot of years to tame.
Here’s how I see it:
We forget priests are human, prone to all the mistakes the rest of us make. In the case of Father LeBlanc, he was under the spell of one of the most insidious addictions a person could have. When the addiction has you by the balls, you do terrible things to feed the habit. Stealing money, for example.
My most destructive addiction was compulsive binge eating. I always knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t stop. And I used a lot of money that wasn’t mine to feed that addiction. It was money from the family account, but it could have easily been money from someplace else.
My kids have been selling popcorn for the Cub Scouts and I recently took the order form and cash envelope to work to sell some for them. For a good three weeks I had an envelope full of cash sitting in my laptop bag. Five or 10 years ago, chances are pretty good that I would have burned through some or all of that money to get my fix. Thank God I don’t have to face that danger today.
Addicts of all stripes: Food, booze, drugs — know exactly what I’m talking about.
You know it’s wrong. You badly want to stop. BUT YOU CAN’T.
Sounds like every other sin out there.
Priests have a role to play in the Sacrament of Reconciliation, the official term for Confession. Their job is to sit there and absorb someone else’s sins, then grant forgiveness.
What people fail to understand is that they are telling their sins to God. The priest is just a conduit.
It’s a brutally hard concept to swallow, especially when we spend our lives trying to oversimplify the fight between good and evil.
All I know is that Confession is important to me.
I screw up daily. I’m forgiven for sins and then I go out and do the same stupid things all over again. It’s like a trash can. You empty it and spend the next week filling it back up with garbage. Then it has to be emptied again.
When I go into the Confession booth and dump out the garbage, I walk away feeling a hundred pounds lighter.
If that sounds stupid to you, I don’t know what to tell you.
In this blog, I can only tell you where I’ve been and how I got through my own personal hell.
But what works for me can’t possibly work for everyone.
I’m just glad I found another piece of God’s Grace. Hopefully, I’m a better man for it.
Part of the holiday tradition around here is a viewing of “It’s A Wonderful Life.” The ending used to make me sad, because it seemed to sum up what was missing in my life.
For a long time, I didn’t feel like I had any friends. It was nobody’s fault. I had crawled so far inside myself that I chose dozing off on the couch with the TV remote in my hand over going outside and dealing with people.
I was terrified of my own shadow and too absorbed in OCD-driven thoughts to reach out to real people outside the closest family.
But that’s what insanity does to you. You think all the shit that’s untrue is real and, in the process, you miss the very real beauty that’s right in front of your face.
But I’ve done a lot of mental healing in the last few years. I’ve written about it at length here — more than some folks think I should. But the facts are ironclad:
–I’m much better at living in the moment than I used to be.
–Once I learned to get out of my own way, I realized that I do have a lot of friends; way more than I can count. That’s a big deal, because in my late teens I used to be so insecure about how many friends I had that I would try to count them all. They never went away. I did.
That last scene from “It’s A Wonderful Life” — where George Bailey finds a copy of “Tom Sawyer” from his guardian angel, Clarence, with a message inside the cover that says “No man is a failure who has friends” — is so true.
