OYM Day 54: The Logical Song

When I was young, it seemed that life was so wonderful

A miracle, oh it was beautiful, magical

And all the birds in the trees, well they’d be singing so happily

Oh joyfully, playfully watching me

But then they send me away to teach me how to be sensible

Logical, oh responsible, practical

And they showed me a world where I could be so dependable

Oh clinical, oh intellectual, cynical

There are times when all the world’s asleep

The questions run too deep

For such a simple man

Won’t you please, please tell me what we’ve learned

I know it sounds absurd

Please tell me who I am

— SuperTramp

I have this record. I recently had my record player serviced and it’s finally back in good, working order. I put a handful of records on the arm and set about prepping for dinner. This song came on and it was like I was hearing the lyrics for the first time. I know the words to the song, and many songs, and can go on autopilot when I sing them quietly under my breath. But for some reason I actually digested them today. Shit. I burned the squash.

This song basically sums up the internal battle I have with myself on a daily basis. I wonder who I would be if I wasn’t influenced by outside factors like school books, media, and geography. I wonder who I would be if I had solid relationships with both of my parents. I wonder if I would physically look the same or if feeling different would activate different genes and alter my appearance. It’s really not that far fetched.

I think it’s necessary to learn certain rules to fit into a society and serve as a functioning member, but we know most of these things by kindergarten. The more I question my own schooling and upbringing, the more I think I should homeschool my daughter. Or run away somewhere that doesn’t require state testing and outdated required reading.

I’m not sure why but I’m really hung up on figuring out who I would be without any sort of influence. And knowing that I can’t change the past, how I can move forward in my life in the most genuine way. Do I really like the way I dress? Do I really like the music I listen to? My aspirations, my goals, my dreams… are they really my own?

About a year ago I was really struggling with my depression. My depression is somewhat genetic, and chemical, although I’m sure there are real life factors that play into it as well. I reached out to a therapist and like everyone else in my life, she told me I need to carve out time in the day for myself. Everyday. She asked me what I like to do for fun, and honestly, I couldn’t think of a single thing. She rephrased the question; what makes me happy? I knew I was supposed to say my daughter… or my husband… but I couldn’t. At that time, I looked at them as obligations and people I likely let down and disappoint. I still couldn’t think of anything. She started telling me some things I could do to find what makes me happy, but I zoned out. I imagined her other clients answering the questions easily. What makes them happy? Bike riding, cooking, hiking, brewing their own beer, playing with their dog, game nights… In my mind, those are things we are supposed to like, but do we really?

What are some things you love? What makes you happy? Can you rattle them off or do you have to rack your brain?

What are things you do for fun that you don’t really enjoy? I know it’s an odd question, but I’m guilty. I don’t really enjoy going out to eat, but I do. God save me from another night of tapas… I also don’t care about brunch. Don’t kill me!

What’s something you loved at a very early age? I remember loving animals, pigs specifically, in an intense way. I also really loved the magic of the holidays. Just the idea of magic… I wish that feeling didn’t get stomped out so soon.

I’m in a place in life where I am desperately seeking my own individuality and wanting to create an environment where my daughter can blossom in hers, with the least amount of of influence.

It’s impossible, isn’t it?