Pathways

Everyone has secrets; sins, transgressions, skeletons in the closet, fears, apprehensions. These are the things we want to keep hidden from the world and for which we will go to great lengths to disguise the truth, even from ourselves. In no way am I suggesting that we should suddenly pull all these demons out of their closets and display them for the world to see. But....what if we all lived without fear of judgment? Suddenly that nagging ache might just disappear. If we all knew that no matter what we did or didn't do, we'd still be loved and accepted then we wouldn't have to waste so much energy posturing.

When we were growing up, my mom used to say to Bill and me, "Remember who you are!". This was her admonition whenever we'd leave the house. If I was going out with my friends, going to my father's house, going back to school after a break, at the end of every phone conversation..."Remember who you are!" Mostly I would openly mock her..."yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it mom!" or "Rosa Michelle Schmidt" would be my response. What did she think? That I'd suddenly enter into a psychogenic fugue and assume a new identity? Or I'd collapse into a fit of moral turpitude and start selling pot and sleeping around? Regardless of my mockery, she'd still say it every time I walked out the door or we hung up the phone. Repetition. Consistency.

I guess this is why I suddenly said this to my middle kid as he walked out the door for school on Monday morning. Only moments before I had been lecturing him, Charlie Brown style, about choices and behavior and I could see his eyes glazing over and his agitation escalating. Fidgeting on the bar stool, he was already across the street waiting for his ride and on his way to chess club (the irony of lecturing a kid who is in the chess club on wise choices...so many layers there). The words came out of my mouth reflexively. And they made sense. And in the middle of the street, not looking back, he responded with his full, given, name. I didn't want to leave anything open to loose interpretation, so I screamed back to him, (Oh yes I did. In my pajamas, coffee cup in my hand, crazy hair and crazy eyes right there on the front porch at 7:30 am) "You are a child of the King!". He sprinted the last few steps to his friend's front door.

Sometimes we know each other's secrets. You might come to me and entrust me with some closely guarded apprehension or truth about yourself. The package can be big or small. I'm not really a brunette (I really am...just an example) or I have 3 parking tickets that I never paid and if I get pulled over in New Orleans, I'm going to jail (again, just an example. Actually I'm on the Most Wanted list for removing mattress tags). Why do we share these things? Why am I going to make someone complicit in my secret? Do we want absolution or acceptance? I think we are all just trying to find our way home, which circles back to remembering who we are.

One of the early clues with Alzheimer's Disease is an inability to find your way in familiar surroundings. You might be trying to get to the same grocery store you've been to a thousand times before and it's like you are in a house of mirrors. Or you don't remember the route home, a route traveled so many times that there are ruts in the road. If my judgment lapses and I do something out of character or if I am hiding something deep within myself I might feel lost and confused. I've gotten off the path and I'm wandering in circles like Pooh in the 100 Acre Wood.

Have you ever woken up from a bad dream and it takes you a couple of seconds to reorient yourself and realize you can let go of the fear? If someone is there to hold your hand or comfort you then the process is just a little bit easier. You can fold into the arms of your spouse, your parents or a loved one and the fear gradually subsides.

Another thing my mom always says is "I love your more today than I did yesterday and less than tomorrow." But parents are supposed to love us even when we do bad stuff. Their love is supposed to be unconditional, even if they don't like our choices.

I have a sign in my house that says, "Not all those who wander are lost" (I also have a sign that says "Be nice or leave!") and I think the phrase is correct in the sense that you have to stop and take time to smell the roses, explore, discover. But I don't think it's an endorsement to spend a good portion of your life wandering about like a Bedouin in a sandy desert or a hobo riding the rails, jumping from box car to box car. We all want our own Gypsy encampment to call home. And if I get lost and wander away from my tribe, I want you to take me by the hand and gently lead me home and to leave the judgment at the door. Soon enough we are all going to loose our way, wander off the path, and we all just need to help each other find the way home.