Inner Resources

Birth begets life and as result, I am someone’s child. Love begets marriage and as a result, I am someone else’s husband. Should the cycle repeat, I eventually will be the other side of that equation and a father, both in law and in blood.

I am a grandson to two people, one of whom has a functioning brain, the other of whom is dying with Alzheimer’s; both of who’s husbands have long been dead. I am the apple of my mother’s eye, the star in my father’s crown, although I often feel quite the opposite.

I am a brother. I spent eighteen years of my life with this person who I now feel as if I don’t even know. I am unsure as to how this makes me feel.

I have a razor’s edge view of right and wrong. Black and white are for me not only opposite ends of the pigmental spectrum, but in-between them there exists nothing. You are my enemy or my friend, and I love you both, although for one I will exert all my efforts to comfort – the other, to destroy.

I am intensely insecure. I feel the need for constant reassurance that I indeed am who it is that I say I am and that I treat others as I say that I should. Through the bluster and braggadocio, lies a yearning need to be told that I have been good, and faithful. I thrive on appreciation. I exist to summate the Law and the Prophets.

I am honest, completely, and expect the same from others. I expect from others only their best, and am hurt when I do not get it. I do that which most fatigues me because I know I must. No one else will…and it must be done.

I am not glib, sensational, or overly communicative. I am an island with few docks at which select ships may berth. I am self-aware. I am critical of everything, myself paramount. Myself has a name, but that is not who I am.