Retaining Place

I finally managed to get a claim form out for an unclaimed paycheck from my first job–it should take out either next month’s phone or power bill (it is summer and we already owe so much). With the little money I pull in now, I have to place whatever I had had on the side and consider biting the bullet as it is and sacrificing as much as I can.

Everything I give goes into our family pot. These are not fortunate times for anyone and I too must do away with pleasures and luxuries I have amassed for myself to assist my family. Even now, there are threatening letters coming in from Paul’s various loan companies, from Mom’s various loan companies, for the company that sold me this computer–themselves all trying to prevent their own losses. I do not even cry, I just give and give and give.

But all of this has taught me we must give of ourselves all that we have, to never give up and relinquish that which we hold dear. I have let go of so many passions for my family, and even though it hurts not being able to partake in what other people my age are enjoying with their lives, it gives me a greater satisfaction knowing that what I am doing now ensures the happiness and survival of those people whom I could never tear myself away, to whom I cling and would never abandon.

I do not know what life is. I don’t know what it subsists of, how it is supposed to be lived out, or what is to be done. There are, as John Cage said, no pedals. I have dishonored my family by my laziness and ineptitude. I have brought immense shame to my mother, the woman who brought me into existence. Her hopes still lie in my independence, and yet I too want her to be free. I know it is so difficult for her. Even now, all I can do is weep aloud for her, with frailty. How embarassing is a son who cannot even console his own mother, who is inconsolable.

My mother has done everything for me. To her I owe everything I have, everything that I love, everything that interests me, everything that consumes me. I feel like my own wanting to escape is something she intuits, but does not want to mention outloud. But then, a couple of weeks ago, when she lay on her bed absolutely heartbroken about having not recieved her IRS stimulus payment ($600), she said to me, “Leave. Do not come back. I will be fine with you out of the house.” How can I leave her? She is the only thing I have known and loved with such immensity. I cannot abandon her. And yet, I want to be an adult of my own means. I am begging for freedom.

I of course blame myself. I cannot stop thinking of blame. It is not fitting for a son of my age and caliber to remain in my mother’s house. All I have to do is give into what I refuse to give into–myself. For years I have sold myself short, time after time, and all I have recieved in return is refusal after refusal after refusal. Now I am dealing with the consequences of it.

I don’t know what to do or where to go. I don’t want any more outside assistance, this has to come from inside and it has to be self-sustaining. Now is the time.