Delusions of Grandeur

I was waiting for him to say something funny, but alas, nothing came. He's much more delusional now than before. I'm transcribing everything, and also recording it, in case I forget.

He thinks that a bad "drug" has been unleashed on mankind, and that he's invented a "good" drug to counteract it. He's been going on about it all day long, and despite periods of intermittent sleep. This worries me, because it's like his entire reality has been replaced by one his afflicted brain created.

I'll tell you what makes me sad about it. I can tell, by earlier conversations, that he feels like his life was wasted--that he screwed it all up. It's actually pretty true, if you look only at the objective facts (and if you're one of those black-and-white people who likes to file everything into a neatly-fitting category). [uh oh, I feel a rant or a tangent coming on.... a rantgent?]

To me, it's never that easy, and I never want to oversimplify anything. Many of life's lessons go completely undiscovered without a conscious effort to understand the experiences we can't help having. For a long time now, every time a seeming catstophe befalls me, I try to cull it for little pieces of wisdom. It's like sifting for gold. You have to sift through all the dirt to find it. When I find these little gems, I keep them with me always. They are my most prized possessions, and they are more valuable than anything tangible I will ever own, had I all the money in the world. Finding them requires a lot of pain and effort. I have to look at myself honestly, without attempting to rationalize my behavior or beattify my motives. For someone who hates mirrors, constantly putting one in front of my soul is almost never pleasant. Finding them also requires that I hear and accept the truth from other people, instead of trying to twist reality so it matches what I'd like it to be. I told someone this the other day, I think, but I called these life lessons "little oracles." I think it captures the essence. They foretell where life is going, based on my response to encountering them.

Anyhow, back from my ramble. Yes, I suppose dad messed up his life from an "objective standpoint" [for lack of a better term]. He was working on his doctorate when he screwed up and quit. He was a pretty successful as a programmer eventually and much later. Many times, he screwed up and his parents bailed him out. Then they died. He blew his inheritance on crack and lost the house I grew up in, and everything else, in a little over a year. I think, actually I know, that he was waiting for me to save him that last time. I didn't do it. I tried.

So now his afflicted brain (haha, finally she gets to the point) is creating this false reality where he's doing something worthwhile and important. He's about to save mankind. He invented--he created--something of paramount importance. It's his way of dealing with death. I wish he could understand that his life, flawed as it seems, was of utmost importance and value. He loved me so much, and I would not be who I am without him. I know it isn't much, but it's true. Had he not made exactly the choices he made, I would not be where or who I am. No one can possibly understand this last bit, but I'm not going into it. I would not be in law school without his decisions. Also, I probably never would have discovered that he could live on his own without my taking care of him. I'd still be living with him in his house, as no one was ever crazy enough to marry him after my mother. Sure, when he went to Baton Rouge he didn't live well, but he made it. Had he not lost the house, forcing us both out, I would never have left. Whew.

Anyway, he's important to me. Everything happens for a reason. He doesn't need to save the world. He just needed to be in it. The same is true for everyone.