Friday, December 22, 2006

The Bubble

I've lived in a bubble for a very long time. The kind of bubble that has sheltered me from the reality of life, from the reality of my own human nature. There are days where I wish I could climb back in the bubble, the days where I wish I'd taken the "blue pill." On those days, (And there have been many of them recently, just ask my boyfriend.) I feel angry. Really, really angry. I feel angry that I now have to deal with the fact that many of the beliefs I was raised with and that I've acquired for myself over the last 32 years are complete shite. Angry that I was raised in a cult. (What was my mother thinking?) Angry that my dad didn't intervene. (What was he thinking?) Angry that I wasn't smart enough to snap out of it sooner. (What was I thinking?)

Most of all, I'm angry that the story I've weaved for myself around my experiences may not be accurate. I can now see my past as a very different beast. I journaled recently about connecting with my father's sister attempting to get some background on my father and what he was like as a child, considering he's always been a bit of an enigma. He's the stereotypical emotionally closed European male. The hard worker, not much of a talker type. So, after that conversation with my aunt I wrote the following. It typifies what it's like on days where I'm acutely aware of being out of the bubble.

"So, now I wonder what’s true. I get bits of information and try to piece together a story about my parents' life, my life. But who knows what really happened? I don’t think I’ll ever know. It’s weird. You can build your whole life on false information. Make major life decisions based on untruth. You can weave this whole elaborate story and it becomes real in your mind. But it can be complete crap. How many stories do we tell ourselves each day? How often are we validating beliefs that aren’t true? What if it’s all a lie? Where do we go from there? Where do I go from here?"

And so it is for me these days. Today is one of those days. It's raining and I'm angry and I'm filled with grief. And I wonder about what I know. And my father's voice pops into my head. My father, the non-emoting, non-verbal parent, once said one of the wisest things I think I've heard anyone say: "All I know is that I'm here." Thanks Dad.

tall penguin


Joe said...

Well said! You certainly have not lost your way with words!

Couldn't help but laugh when I read this.......kinda similar to my thoughts I shared with you on Friday night, just a bit eh?......

Keep at it Sis, all is good!

Love and Ever Proud,

Eva Kopie said...

I was raised in a cult, too. I get it. Let's talk sometime.

tall penguin said...

Thanks Eva. I'd love to chat. I posted to your blog so give me a shout back and we'll talk.

matt said...

"All I know is that I'm here" is a very powerful statement. From the mouth of any human, it seems to portray the satisfaction in not really needing any sort of intellectual answer of the sort most are fondly searching for. Philosophically, however, this is the only absolute truth we can be sure of. I hold no contempt to such a statement. :)

A lot of my bubble-popping fears have subsided recently, when I came to terms with a lot of the JWs. I believe going to the memorial was the best thing for me, because it made it okay to talk to them, and to be with them. That I had no ill will towards anyone at the hall.

There is no blue pill, :D
We're trapped in our new bubbles! XD

tall penguin said...

Yes, it's still profound statement for me. And knowing my father makes it even more profound. Pretty sure he'd be done with the whole jw thing if not for my mother. Geesh.

It's the bubbles of own making that are often the hardest to shed. We get so attached to our own thoughts, our own perceptions. We really hate being wrong.