I lie to myself all the time. But I never believe me.
(Ponyboy speaking in The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton p. 18).
How true this is, eh? We convince ourselves all the time of things that aren’t necessarily so, in order to function.
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“She loves me, even though she keeps saying she wants a divorce.”
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“The cancer won’t spread.”
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“I don’t need to do up my seatbelt.”
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“I’ll never get in an accident.”
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“It won’t matter if I have one more drink.”
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“The kids won’t remember I wasn’t there like I said I would be.”
We tell the lies to ourselves, but we don’t really believe them, so they niggle in the back of our minds, making us feel snappish and guilty. We could be better, but we aren’t. Preservation requires a little self-delusionment. What happens when we are faced with the whole truth? Can we find a new way of being?






strong and womanly April 17, 2011
Tags: Charlotte, postaday2011
portrait of Charlotte by her mom
From the time I was eleven years old, I remember planning to name my daughter after my grandmother. My father’s mother was Charlotte, and I thought it was the most beautiful name! My mother assured me that I’d change my mind a hundred times before I grew up, but I didn’t. When my baby girl arrived, the nurse set her on my chest. When I whispered, “Welcome, Charlotte” it was like greeting someone I’d been waiting for my whole life. A few months after her arrival I asked my husband, “Did you even like the name Charlotte?” and he said, “Not particularly, but I’m used to it now.” He didn’t have any opportunity to disagree, the option was not negotiable.
Now our baby has grown into a beautiful, talented, caring young woman. She is a perfect blend of the best of her father and the best of her mother. She is remarkably intuitive when dealing with people (her father) and joyfully vivacious and creative (her mother). She is loyal, kind, and diligent. She is the epitome of her name’s meaning: strong and womanly. I am proud of who she is and what she will be. I am always honoured to know her and I am blessed to be her mother.
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