Sometimes it's nice to come back. I find awareness again, where my actions are deliberate and purposeful, and I wonder, "It's nice to be back, but if I wasn't here, where have I been?" This series of events operates in a small cycle spanning maybe a couple days to several months, or so it seems. It's increasingly difficult to keep track of time. I wonder if I have always had such difficulty, but wasn't able to see it until recently. A lot of life feels like that; in a lesser sort of way, I experience things for the first time almost frequently. Coming to the point where I realize my time is limited, and putting priority where I can to affect what i can in positive ways during my short stay, certain things have fallen from having any sort of importance at all. I was a joke, a laugh, a clown. I hated it, but it was the only place I fit, as determined by the other kids my age. There were few who saw this - saw my plight to blend in and be a normal kid nobody noticed, but sadly, we were a short minority. Sometimes I wonder if I had the benefit of spending my healing years without guidance and in an environment where I had to fight in order to not be belittled and put down intentionally. I used to think so. During the time, it was survival, and it was every single day.

There was so much pressure to have some miraculous recovery, and I quickly sensed numerous peoples' impatience and intolerance with the way my mind was functioning at that time, during that first couple years of healing. I found, quickly, that where recovery and rehabilitation take a very long time, emulating the behaviors of the rest of the class was pretty easy, though there were times when I was singled out and exposed as the fraud that I was. I fucked some things up, severely, and some of the mistakes I made, I will never have the opportunity of making right. For so much of that time, the first years, I was absent more than I was there. I'd come to, like I am today, and blink and hit myself in the head and say, "What the fuck? Where have I even been?"

There's something additionally complicated about this, and that is that I still have those moments of realization and 'coming back' to the present now, but from what I've been able to gather, I wasn't actually missing. Tant mieux! I was never one to back down from a confrontation, but those who took advantage of the medical handicap, then and now, I loathe the thought that I considered you friends. I despise the "forgiveness" that I offered freely during the time I was taken advantage of. I was fooled by promises unfulfilled and misled by the suggestion of faith.

On a related note, I read an article by a child psychologist who suggests the smartest thing for children, the wisest thing to do for their happiness and health, is to never play a charade about Santa Claus, to teach them that it's absurd, but some people tell their kids that, and "How is one guy supposed to deliver all those presents, anyway?" It's honest, and evokes thought; they won't be sad about it - they still get the presents, they just came from a different source, so he claims. It's an interesting thought. This year I am going to pay attention to how my kids refer to Santa and see if they're wow'ed by the magic, or if it's a fantastic story, or if it's really just the presents. Why do we lie to our kids? Why do we lie to each other? Why do we make up stories about men in the sky and staying on the 'good' list so you get told promises of getting more stuff, or being better than other people, or living forever?