One disturbing truth about my life I discovered in sobriety is that I hide who I am in personae I create. I project intelligence, compassion, and amiability, but, truth be told, I possess limited quantities of the qualities. I am really just a scared and needy little boy in a 65-year old body.
At the heart of projecting these images are the clothes I wear. I buy clothes to cultivate my self-image. The consequence of this is that I have bought a lot of clothes, more than I can possibly hope to wear. They take up space. Since I’ve been recovering from the fusion, the clothes that I wear most often are at the top of a storage system of three plastic tubs. Like an iceberg, I have used only the top of my clothes iceberg. Time to say good by to clothes I won’t ever hardly wear,.
Next in the parting with an image is gleaning an accumulation of books. Some books belonged to my brother, some to my aunt, my cousin, my father, my uncle. Most of those stay. The ones that can go are classic books that will never go out of print, those I can find at a library or on Kindle.
Almost 20 years ago, part of my “image” was pipe smoking. I enjoyed smoking, but I did not enjoy the coughing, discolored teeth, and smelly clothes. So I quit. My recent activity is a resumption of my abandoning of a false image of who I am.
I’m just another one of God’s children.
Pax.
Dispatches From Dystopia 