I came across a book in the thrift store by Kirk Douglas called “Let’s Face It: 90 Years of Living, Loving, and Learning.” It was amazing to see someone with such a full life, and even more anazing to learn that he is Jewish. I somehow always envied that religion; Jews are such a cohesive, unified culture with so much rich tradition. I never had that as a child. I don’t even know if I can read the book by Douglas, remembering my childhood. I wanted to be something–something with tradition and bonds to people.
But my parents were not religious, had very few passions other than each other, and never really fostered or encouraged our growth in any areas. Fact is, my deperate yearning for attention resulted in me excelling in almost everything. But I did have one singular passion: photography. During my bipolar meltdown I somehow lost that passion–one I have had since I was 8 years old.
My childhood other than that was just average. There were no major high points, and no major low points. My parents really never gave us traditions or family linkage. Did I miss out on “heritage”? Is that why now my mind and soul feels so restless and so yearning for “something to belong to.” Or am I lucky to not have had abuse, addiction, poverty –all great motivators for changing your life.
I wonder if when I am 90 I will have anything great to write in a book. That’s what makes me sad, and want for more. Is it wrong to want more, and even more wrong to not know what ai want?
The Bipolar Journals 