Distraction

I think I have discovered my most annoying characteristic. Maybe not annoying. Destructive, maybe? I don't know. It's a bad one, to say the least. I dub it "distraction." I have the ability to take whatever I need to do in my life and distract myself to the "nth" degree. I've been doing it my whole life. And I hate it.

When my grandmother died, I distracted myself. Her funeral, the day before my birthday and Easter, passed by in a blur. I was ten. Outwardly, I immersed myself in the family, taking part of the laughs and tears as though I were a part of it. Inwardly, I took notice of everything. I observed my family, watching their patterns of laughing and the sidelong glances at each other, carefully measuring each word as though it could destroy the other. Inwardly, I took notice of each wince and flash of pain on each face. I distracted myself from my own pain by watching everyone else express their own.

When my parents divorced, I distracted myself. I plunged into the church, which is not a bad thing. It helped me through it. But I became so involved that I left my family behind. I untangled myself from my family roots and sat myself elsewhere, where I was looked at with a mixture of pity and admiration. Wow, I was a manipulate little boy. I used the people I was around to feed my own inner need to feel important. I threw out every prayer and church event as though it were spotlights on my own self. "Look at me!" I screamed. "Love me." Sigh.

Things haven't changed much on the inner me. I distract myself from it all: Sin. Loneliness. Diminishing self-worth. I hide behind pretty words and impenetrable walls. I cordon myself to a small part of my soul, and there I stay, constantly placing shiny lights in front of my face to distract myself from my own darkness. I do this again and again instead of just turning around and facing the music. I lock it all away and will it to disappear, and it gets filed away with the rest of my thoughts. All I really want to do is strike a match and burn it all away.

Christmas is supposed to be a season of hope. Yet, I am filled with a numb, distracted slush that slows my mind and heart from any coherent thought. I've lost myself within my own maze that was built to protect me. I am Daedalus, imprisoned in my own labyrinth.