Significance

The T-bird in May, from my first post.  Pretty ugly, huh?

It's just a car.  Isn't it?

Then again, much of the pain of my past has, in one way or another, been connected to this car.  It was with me during times of neglect, isolation, denial... then disillusionment, more isolation, fantasy, and self-indulgence... which eventually led to addiction.  As a young adult, in a fit of despair and anguish, I abandoned the car.  I had never forgiven myself for that.  It came to represent much of what I hated about myself... weak, inadequate, unable to finish anything, worthless!

This same car then re-appeared in my life shortly after two family members had been diagnosed with cancer.  My Mother in law has since left this planet, and the family is grieving.  The presence of this rusty, neglected car seems to accuse me of my past failures, reminding me of dark times, and then pointing out that times are dark again!   But I have changed.  I'm different now.  I no longer  fear the sadness, because I know it will pass. 

Somehow, I feel that restoring this car means something... that it's much more significant than a simple mass of iron, steel, paint and rubber.  Maybe, just maybe, it is meant to provide an outward expression of the inward change in me.  Instead of reminding me of dark times, perhaps it's meant to remind me of the perseverance and intentionality I so desperately want... both for this car, and for my life!  As I think about what I want for the car, maybe I should be reminded about what I really want for myself, of the man I want to be.

"Denial" was the topic in my recovery open share group Thursday night.  I was forced to consider things about myself that I may be denying.  For example, I'm angry with my father - he doesn't take care of himself, and doesn't take his cancer seriously.  He also doesn't affirm me... never has... doesn't know how.   I don't deny this anger, but I'm probably denying the fact that Dad will never change, and that I am avoiding the pain of that reality through self-righteous anger.

I'm a creative and imaginative person, and always have been.  When reality becomes unpleasant for me, I tend to imagine a better situation, a more pleasant place, and think about what it would be like if things were set right.  The desire to make things better, and envisioning a better reality, have served me well in my career.  But this same gift gets ugly when it becomes self serving, and turns into fantasy and isolation.  I do this all the time.  I continually have to navigate that thin line between healthy imagination and unhealthy fantasy.

But, I need a healthy imagination to envision what this car will be like, and to maintain my enthusiasm.  On the other hand, I have to resist the fantasy that fixing this car will solve any of my problems, or that it will ease my family's grief, or that, somehow, my Dad will praise me for it before he dies!  Don't get me wrong, I'm sure that driving this car will provide deep satisfaction for me and my sons.   Just working on it together with them has given me a glimpse of that.  But, like most of life, if I don't find joy in the journey, I will undoubtedly be disappointed in the destination.

It shouldn't matter so much that the car gets "fixed", or how soon I can take it to cruise night.  What matters is that I have peace about it, and what it represents.  If I start with that, then the condition of the car, whatever it is, will be a source of joy to me.