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—wasted years ...


My principle driving force (my center) seems to be focused on an urge to cleanse my mind of all the garbage poured into it during my adolescent years.

And for some reason that I do not fully understand I am somewhat bitter about the whole thing, perhaps more than I should be.

I was told one thing, and believed it (earnestly), then grew up, got an education and realized quite clearly that that "one thing" I had been taught was essentially bullshit.

I am sure that this is not an experience unique to me, which might make my response to it appear as an overreaction.

Another troubling aspect of my nagging neurosis is centered in the desire to blame someone, but I am completely befuddled as to who that might be. I cannot be angry at those who put the crap in my head, my teachers, mentors and parents, since they did not deliberately deceive me (my mother died believing the bullshit). The only thing left to find fault with is the circumstances in which the whole thing took place. And how in holy hell can you blame something like that?

I suppose, in essence, what I am getting at is that it feels that my time was wasted. Yes, so many years were literally squandered focusing on what I now consider to be total nonsense.

"It's like crying over spilt milk," my critics assure me.

"What the fuck, dude, you're not the only one who's experienced some shit like that."

Yes, yes, I know that. But I am powerless to ignore the feeling. It is as if something was stolen from me, and I cannot get it back.

Why could I not have been basking in the truth during those years, instead of wallowing in pig slop?

My soul can actually identify with these female characters that I am always seeing in crime shows who have been raped.

Again, I am overreacting, but it feels as if my soul was raped - with bullshit.

But it gets even weirder. On a certain level I am actually thankful for the influence that my family's religious cult exerted on me, especially in the matter of sexual activities. There is no doubt in my mind that the basic substance of that cult was indeed horseshit. But its practical effect on me was golden.

Based upon my present familiarity with myself I shudder to think of what I might have done if I had not felt so keenly the strong arm of that horseshit restraining me. I might have gotten someone pregnant, or contracted a venereal disease - or both.

God-in-heaven, you have no idea how much it goads me to acknowledge such a thing. To think that something that I virtually spit on now had such a positive effect on my life. It is no wonder that I have occasionally remarked that one of the driving forces of this website is the pursuit of my own personal therapy.

I am somewhat pacified by Plato's Royal Lie as described in The Republic, a necessary fabrication (he argued) to facilitate the adherence of the individual to the higher social order.

In more popular terms, a society based upon total honesty is just not bloody likely.

The only glitch I sense in my pacification regarding this dysfunctional matter is gleaned from the fact that that which was poured into my adolescent mind was not deliberately dishonest, as I have already mentioned. Plato, however, speaks of a deliberate lie.

The child inside me basically wants to pitch a temper tantrum and doesn't quite know how to go about it.

The adult is aware of this anger and suppresses the seething irrational energy, fully cognizant that any action directed at the past will have no effect on it whatsoever. What happened happened. It's pretty much cast in stone, like forever.

What happened in the past stays in the past.