February 15, 2005
First Real Post
Now to post for real ... but how shall I begin? How does one begin a blog, anyway? I imagine it's fairly common to begin with an introduction, but most people who will read this will know me quite well already.
Or will they? Well, at least now I know what to make my first post on. In the last couple of years, another facet of my character has been coming to my attention. Undoubtedly, it was obvious to my friends years before that, but it was the first time I'd seen it clearly myself. And I see it more clearly now than ever - I hold people at a distance.
I have for years. Tracing back through my memory, I certainly have had friends (and have more friends now than I've ever had before), but never very many, and rarely very close. Moving to Mongolia drove the trend even deeper, and competing with my brothers for the affections of the few friends I did have probably also had something to do with it. Regardless, I have withdrawn into myself. I have become oddly antisocial. I have tried very hard, and very nearly succeeded, at not needing anyone. That may sound odd for a married person to say, but it's also hard for me to admit that I need my wife. I love her, certainly. I'd miss her, absolutely. But need her? Well, actually, of course I do, but it doesn't often feel that way.
I stand alone. I love my friends, but I hold myself apart from them. One of the first times I noticed this was a couple of years ago when I went to one of our Bible studies. I realized that unlike most of the people there, I came alone. I left alone. I always do that. I am welcome among them, but I do not really belong there. I'm not sure where I really belong. Maybe part of holding myself aloof has kept me from belonging anywhere. I do not depend on people. One of the weird parts of my personality is that I never blame anyone but myself for anything that affects my life. I have shields upon shields protecting me from other people. Perhaps that's why I can be so publically blunt about myself, because I've prepared myself mentally for rejection all my life. That sounds so odd and ridiculous, but if I try to imagine what it would be like if all my friends betrayed me, turned their backs on me, and refused to acknowledge they ever knew me (of course, I can't imagine that, but I try), there really isn't any pang in my heart, other than the thought I always knew I was alone. And I wouldn't even blame my friends. To a large degree (in my imagination), it wouldn't hurt. I wouldn't hurt because as much as I enjoy others' company, I don't need it. I don't count on it. I don't depend on it.
How much am I this way? I don't know. I imagine my friends know better than me how much of this is in my own mind and how much is real.
Does it bother me to be like this? Yes ... and no. It bothers me because I know it isn't quite right. I may love my friends but I don't trust them. And not based on any evidence of falsity, but based on some inner psychological problem. It bothers me because I love my friends and I'm ashamed at how little I'm involved in their lives. How little I know of what goes on. I'm ashamed at what a lousy friend I am. It also bothers me that it doesn't bother me, if you understand the thought. I bothers me that I love my loneliness, that I love my isolation, that I resist all attempts by others to draw me close, to draw me in. I am the ultimate spectator ... I wish to sit back and watch life. I love to watch. I love to see. But get involved? Heavens, no!
Why do I sit back and watch? Why am I more content to observe? Why does the thought of actually doing anything disturb me? Questions for another day, I guess. Good-night all.
