Apologies...

I remember once writing in a journal that I sometimes felt as if I needed to apologize for all the apologizing I do. This still holds true in some sense. Staring at my web log I look at the date of my last post and I feel guilty. I feel that old apologetic urge hitting me. "I'm sorry for not posting more." There is something really lame in my urge to apologize. Something to do with the insecurity which is better than it was when I was 15 or 25, but having just turned 35 it is somewhat disturbing to realize that one is still in so many ways dealing with the same issues as one was ten, fifteen, twenty, thirty years ago.

The optimist in me says that it is better now because at least I recognize, in some dim way, what some of the problems are, as opposed to simply suffering under the weight of things which feel as if they are immutable. When is it better not to apologize and just keep moving on, not looking back, not wishing we could have done or said that one thing differently so as not to hurt someone else or ourselves? At least here in the solipsistic world of the web log I'm not hurting anyone by rambling on in my neurotic way, and there is a refreshingly high likelihood that hardly anyone (except those who are already far too familiar with my neuroses and have hopefully decided that it is worth hanging out with me here online or in person despite my shortcomings) will be reading this.

And yet, alas, I am overwhelmed with the urge to apologize for even writing this, because it brings up the issue of 'champagne problems'. Are all psychological difficulties 'champagne problems'? Should everyone in therapy for anything but the most dire, life threatening problems, stop paying psychologists and start giving the money to... people whose basic needs for food, clothing, and shelter aren't even being met, or the organizations in your locality set up to help those most unfortunate, perhaps those so mentally ill that they can't meet their most basic needs...

In the interest of disclosure I must say that I have gone through close to a years' worth of therapy and it definitely helped me out in some ways, although obviously I could use some more time with my 'mind doctor' (as Jim Harrison calls his pscychologist in his excellent memoir, Off to the Side) and I wish that insurance covered therapy better so that more people instead of less could experience some of the search for the 'logic of soul' which one seems able to tap into by going to visit a total stranger for 45 min to an hour a week (or more) and talking about the most intimate details of one's life... seems that in our society, that of the U.S. of A. here, as is all too often the case those who need it most are cut off in some mix of ways from receiving the care they could so greatly benefit from, and which subsequently all would benefit from, yes, universal healthcare and more therapy for everyone...

Lawdy, I'm a dangerous fool with a blank html box and a keyboard. I will resist the urge to apologize for my ranting and raving... I mean, who would I be apologizing to, exactly, anyway...
maybe from now on I'll just stick to waxing nostalgic and ecstatic about food... but I wouldn't count on it, my wild inconsistency knows no bounds... Maybe I've just been sucking too many paint fumes from removing old paint with a heat gun the last couple of days. Come to think of it, my coffee's almost done so it is time to re-enter the 'real' world and suck some more paint fumes...