Fear & Love

Ten thirty. S— is understanding of my need to move on from the church. It took her a while to accept it, but she sees the light now. I believe that Pastor will see it similarly. My metamorphosis in the trailer is complete and so it’s time to try my wings in the secular world again. I’m likely heading for more drama than I ever asked for in the continuing story of my life since my parents’ deaths. I got over the loss of my mother and kicked my addiction at the same time.

Funny, but I dreamed about Sue’s daughter Catherine minutes ago. I promised to bring a book to church to give to her. Subject: developmental psychology. Sue said Catherine would probably read it. That’s good enough for me. I really begin to see the writing on the wall, and it’s not a bad thing at all. It’s like commencement after graduation: bittersweet with endings and new beginnings.

Church has been a place of initiation for me. I learned a lot of the things I’d been missing before, rules of conduct that my parents had been clueless about. They were not social animals at all, but rather hid away and drank hard liquor. I feel the saddest for my mother, who lived and died friendless but for me. But they had their chance, and as it worked out, they pinned their hopes on me.

I knew a psychologist who called my parents a “couple of duds,” based on my descriptions. There’s some truth to that, and I attribute their failure to a terrible phenomenon called fear. If ever they had looked into their hearts and taken courage, then they would’ve lived worthwhile lives. But this is not a story about my parents. It’s about my own life of hope after fear; of success after derailment; and of love and courage culminating in sanity after mental ill health.

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