We Can't Get Much Crazier. Right?

I'm trying to write some honest pieces on this site, on everything from antisemitism to functioning with all our lifelong pain.  I figure someone is going to read one of these meanderings and feel seen. 

Or maybe it is I who will feel seen. Because for much of my life, I have not felt that way. Which will probably surprise most people who have only seen some bits of me. The truth is, while my life has been--at least until maybe five years ago---fairly glamorous by most people's standards, it has also been underlined with an almost mythical emptiness.

Don't get me wrong. I consider myself accomplished, and largely by learning about things I knew nothing about--whether shooting firearms or writing novels.  But having had a mother who got cancer and died young, a father who checked out emotionally, and absolutely no one who stepped in to fill any of these voids in any way, I have struggled, I now realize, my entire life with that hole in my soul.

And after years of off-and-on therapy, I find that I am entirely self-aware, yet no closer to filling those holes in my heart. I imagine I will probably die with them, although "likely" doesn't mean "absolutely unimaginable."

I see how often I have been blind to people who have used me for their own purposes, and I could easily succumb to endless bitterness about it. But then I realize, it changes nothing.

I read about some people who have lived most of their adult lives in parks, and I realized in some ways, I am not that different from them. They were abused, or neglected, in some profound way that impacted their ability to connect one-on-one. 

Our society clings to so many nonsensical notions, and the illusion that one can repair the broken pathways in our brain that make us feel safe, loved, wanted is, I believe, just that: an illusion. 

People tell us to journal or do certain kinds of therapy and it will all be healed. Bullshit. It won't be. 

Lately, I've been overcome with grief. Some of it is personal matters, perhaps some is finishing a major life project that is my latest novel, and some of it, I believe, is entering the last major chapter of my life and seeing what will likely never be.

One of the major flaws in American culture that hasn't changed in my lifetime is that people "talk" about "mental health," but really have no desire whatsoever to know what lies beneath it or to in any way ameliorate it.

I have found this to be true not just for me-- ask anyone dealing with a long-term care situation for someone with a horrible, lingering condition and see how much emtional support they receive to cope with it. The answer is: almost none.

We are so busy worried about who might off themselves, but far less concerned with why. I will leave you with that thought, because it is very true across the board.

It's an interesting phenomenon: when everything we do is computerized, how many of us prefer an old-fashioned paper book to a digital one.

For sales of my latest novel, it's almost two to one for either a paperback or hardcover vs. Kindle. And mind you, Kindle is incredibly convenient: for travel, for reading in the dark, for being weightless, and on and on.

Not to mention it's half to a third of the cost of a paper book. Printing has gone through the roof.

So why do so many of us--myself included--love holding a real book when we haven't touched a magazine or newspaper made of paper in decades? Is it nostalgia, comfort, or do words just look more impactful on paper? Seven centuries after the invention of the printing press, why do we still crave the feel of paper, the fun of physically turning a page, and the delights of a beautiful four-color cover?

Truthfully, I'm not sure. But maybe words are meant to be digested as part of a larger experience, and a book and a cup of coffee and a window seat make it all seem like a life experience, not just a read.

I know I put enormous thought into my cover and paper and ink choices. I wanted readers to feel something substantial between their fingers when they turned a page. And to look at a cover and think, "Wow! This is so cool."

I am greatly comforted that real books haven't gone out of style. 

I hope they never do.