Theories I – IV

May 8, 2010

Theory 1

People like to use words like “eradicate,” “banish” and “force out” with me lately. This just seemed wrong but it took me a while to figure out exactly why. I mean, I knew their intentions were good.

Theory 2

Every illness and injury is the physical manifestation of unresolved issues. Even a stubbed toe is represents ones hesitance to move forward – to take a step.

Theory 3

There is no higher puppeteer pulling the strings. It’s all random. People used to say I lived a “charmed life.” But I could hear their contempt. They weren’t saying it because they liked me: they just coveted my rose-colored sunglasses.

Theory 4

I have been put on this earth to die for your sins.


“Stop trying to figure out why. You’ll never know why and you’ll make yourself crazy trying to figure it out.”

“But if I can figure it out, I can unwind it. I don’t want to buy new kite string and throw this one away. I don’t want to cut out the knots and splice these short pieces back together. I want to untangle it so I can use it in all its original glory again.”


Children with disease are encouraged to draw pictures of the heinous cooties that infect them being murdered, slain, purged and otherwise evicted from their little bodies. Before February, I never really thought much about the grievous error of this message – the rejection of self. Because, even the parts of self that are ill are still self. And it just seems that the fresh-faced ideal that everything within can exist absent reproach is a bit of a lofty goal for even the most innocent child.

I mean, is life without a little dirt under the fingernails really worth living?


They told me I have cancer.

I believed them.


“I think I figured it out. I figured out what the problem is. I have been a bad parent.”


For as long as I can remember, I have divided people into three categories. Not like three actual separate pots, it’s more blended at the edges than that. But generally, each person could be assigned a tethering point that made sense to them – that was comforting.

My mother is tethered by the physicality of body.

My father is tethered by the complexity of mind.

I am tethered by the whim of spirit.

We spirits are the ones that scare you the most.

We tend to be impractical.


“As you know, we all have cancer – or at least the potential for cells to mutate into cancer – at all times in our bodies. And I’ve been asking myself, considering I have lived with the potential for my cells – MY cells – to mutate my whole life, why on earth would MY cells choose to misbehave now? No guess? Okay, I’ll tell you. I did not parent them well. I know, I know, I know! But just listen to me for minute. If these cancer cells are ME, how is it possible I could endanger ME by becoming out-of-control and dangerous? I’ll tell you. Are you ready? These cells, before today, largely ignored, unattended, dis-acknowledged, these cells grew up and, because I did not respect their potential, shit – I did not even acknowledge their presence – they have grown up to be angry, hurt and unruly teenagers.

“So! Now that I know what went wrong, I just have to figure out how to show these, what I imagine to be rather neglected, uncouth, language-less, feral, hormonal, unkempt, immoral teenagers that I am sorry and that I love them.”



I believe gravity is a collective, and often comforting, fallacy.

You need proof?

Curly hair.


I have, by no stretch of the imagination, always been a good person. I have had my fair share of deceit, revenge, ill-will and jealousy but, I like to think that, overall, and particularly after becoming a mother, I have shown up in the world, day after day, as the best person I was capable of being on that day, in that moment. And, when I’ve realized I could have done something better or different, I like to believe that, when possible, I have made the effort to correct my actions.

Hand in hand with this more conscious navigation of the world and my relationships has come a broadened view of the limitations of others and a forgiveness of their transgressions or shortcomings.

A psychologist once diagnosed me with a dissociative disorder because I felt compassion for the boy, damaged beyond repair by his own molester, who grew into a man and molested me. She wanted me to be angry with him. She said, “But he was an adult. He knew better. He should have stopped himself.”

But who are we to know what can or can’t be within the confines of our experience?

All I knew was that gravity would exist if I were angry.


Who says, “Why not?” is not an answer?


“Okay. If I can’t talk to them, I mean, I can, but it seems unlikely, considering how long they have been neglected, they will understand me. And it seems ill-advised to throw them out. After all, think about it, throwing out an unruly teenager usually just makes the situation worse. Then they get really angry.

“So, if I can’t talk to them, maybe we can go ahead and give them a place of their own. Sort of like a cancer colostomy bag condo. I could have a bag that hangs outside my body and that is where the cancer gets to live. It is allowed to receive sustenance from my body but is not allowed to send anything back into my body. We can give these – my teenagers – their own place to live where they feel supported and seen and heard, but they do not get to be in charge.

“I mean, obviously, they need to be here for some reason. So we just have to figure out how to make room for them.



I feel fortunate to know that there is no existence that depends on mine. I have gone so far as to tell others that I will gently unhand those that cling and say so. Not because I feel I must be released but instead because I know I was never held. I am not the magic feather that enabled Dumbo to fly – at most, I have merely lent my disbelief of limitations to those when they needed it most.

If I have to die for you to believe, then let’s all consider it a life well lived.

Then again, if you don’t mind, you could just trust that I know what I’m talking about and I could stick around for a while longer.




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: