"I still don't know what I was waiting for
And my time was running wild
A million dead-end streets
Every time I thought I'd got it made
It seemed the taste was not so sweet
So I turned myself to face me
But I've never caught a glimpse
Of how the others must see the faker
I'm much too fast to take that test
...
I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
And so the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're going through
...
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the stranger)
Ch-ch-Changes
Oh, look out you rock 'n rollers
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the stranger)
Ch-ch-Changes
Pretty soon you're gonna get
a little older
Time may change me
But I can't trace time
I said that time may change me
But I can't trace time"

“Changes” – David Bowie, 1971

An interesting side effect of this little trip I am on is watching how I am reacting. Seeing how my sub-conscience interprets what is going on and the types of things I find myself doing as a result is indeed entertaining. As of late, I am on a mission to get back to a time when I was honest with myself, when I felt as close to whole as I ever have. The unsettling part is that I end up somewhere around 1995/96. Thirteen years and too many miles later I am scraping around looking for a moment; trying to determine when I started believing the lies I tell myself. Hanging on to the concept that if I can find out what it is, I can avoid repeating it. So here I am, in my thirties, listening to music I listened to then, re-watching movies, reconnecting with old friends, and trying to remember who/what I was; both good and bad.

Looking back on the last ten years or so, it has become readily apparent that for too long I tried to ignore the “dark” in me. Armed with the notion that no one could accept what I really was, those bits that I bore shame about were discarded. Of course I was very altruistic about it, convincing myself that I was “dealing with it” on my own, that I didn’t need anyone’s help, that I could somehow force a change in myself if I pushed hard and deep enough. It all seems like such a waste of energy from where I sit now. The striving, the sacrifice, trying to reshape myself into what someone else thought I should be. I can’t even blame them for trying – insecure people find it easier to change others than themselves; generally by brute force. The fact that I went along with it for so long, that’s the rub. I’d love to say it was some sort of psychological issue, like Stockholm syndrome or something… but the reality is that I wanted so badly for this to work that I turned a blind eye initially, and later blinded myself completely. I needed for this relationship to be what I thought it was, to be unconditionally loved - accepted. I needed it far too much. So much that even when it became obvious that it wasn’t ever going to be that, I could not accept it. I couldn’t face that I had been so wrong then, and its not any easier as I type this. The major difference is that back then I would have had the luxury of calling it a mistake, but now I see three kids that have ravaged my heart… and I don’t know what to call it. My marriage couldn’t have been a mistake, not if they are the result. But what I am going through now certainly spells out that it wasn’t a good choice either. Like most decisions in life, we have little option but to pick a side and ride it out; or as they say: “Never make a mistake you can’t fix”. Well, at least don’t make one you don’t have time to fix.