read all the volumes of my journal from beginning to end

I’ve finally come back to this, and I’m glad.

Young dave is now a dad, living in Pleasanton CA and working at the lab. He’s even bought his first house, and has really transitioned into more of the old dave than I would imagine at age 32.

Unfortunately there is a gap of nine months between Journals IV and V, where I tried using an electronic journal for a bit, only to have it die and vanish into digital ether.

There are worse losses and bigger gaps, but it hurts to miss out on my first son’s infancy and toddler-hood.

It makes me grateful for all the pages I do have, though.

This has been slow going lately. Still on Volume IV, about a year after linking up with his bride-to-be.

Young dave is having a bit of a tough go of it, right now. He’s not sure if the whole parenting thing is for him. The loss of freedom and self to a more commercial existence in support of a family is difficult to assimilate, it seems.

I’ve resumed work on this goal. I took a break at the end of Volume III, in deference to my “read all the books I’ve started” goal, but with that complete, I can come back to learning about my life.

At this point, young dave is 32 years old, with a two month old. His writing is still strong, but extremely infrequent, due to the twin obligations of “wife” and “child”. Still, I found an entry that I have looked for from time to time in the past, and I’m really glad.

In 1986 Carol Pearson wrote an excellent book called “the Hero Within” which is a post-Jungian type theory based on Archetypes from literature. Her archetypes are the Innocent, the Orphan, the Magician, the Wanderer, the Martyr, and the Warrior.

Well, I spent quite a bit of time trying to orthagonalize her types, based on the concept of mental-physical-spiritual and yin-yang. Ultimately I ended up with:

Teacher (mind:yang)
Scholar (mind:yin)
Warrior (physical: yang)
Martyr (physical:yin)
Wanderer (soul:yang)
Innocent (soul:yin)

These are, of course, quite close to those of Carol Pearson. Since my system is orthagonal, however, I like mine more. I think it is simpler and also provides the yin-yang balance to work from as well. A well proportioned and balanced person has equal amounts of yin and yang, while also having equal amounts of mind-body-soul, in their archetypes. For example if you are a high-school teacher (mind:yang), you might pursue volunteer work (Martyr) and be an avid church-goer (Innocent) to be in balance. On the other hand if you are a college student (mind:yin), you are better balanced by being a bit of the wanderer (soul:yang) and taking up martial arts (body:yang)

Anyway, I’m thrilled to finally find it.

Oh, and what am I right now? I’d say old dave is quite the Wanderer at work (soul:yang) and a student of writing (mind:yin). My balance issue is that I don’t like the role of martyr at home, but that seems to be where I am best balanced right now.

So far, Volume iii has been a fast read. great poetry, great essays, some wonderful self-analysis, even. my favorite volume to date. and as of yesterday, “young dave” has even met the woman who will become my mate of 15 years, and the mother of my three lovely children.

“young dave” and I are finally converging, as I re-open “young dave’s” consultancy, and he meets the woman of my life and settles down. I feel like I’m living in reverse.

An now I’m through the worst of it! Phew! That was some tough sledding, I tell you.

I’m so glad to have gotten to June 15th. At that point in the story, “young dave” (after writing some fan-freaking-tastic poetry; I’ll clean some up and post later) has finally recovered from his severe depression. Maybe there’s some insight here for “old dave” to use. Here’s what he did.

First, he distanced himself from his sources of emotional response. Anything that brought on the feelings of despair were jettisoned, including the places he hung out at, his friends (who were dumping him, anyway), and even his job and his house, ultimately.

Then he did something interesting, from my current perspective. As CitaLia described the experience matrix, there are four axes of experience. Logic, Emotion, Creative, and Physical. Young Dave knew he was an emotionally hazardous substance. So he formed new friendships that could be traced to the other three axes. This meant a purely cerebral relationship with one person, a purely creative relationship (a writing buddy) with another, and a purely physical relationship (yep; you guessed it) with a third. By spending time with each of these new friends, he could focus on and work through the events of the previous year from a logical, physical, and creative point of view, each in turn.

Before long, he could start adding modest amounts of emotion to each relationship, and gradually regained his health. True, he buried his emotional response for a year or so, but that was necessary, to buy the space needed to heal.

By June, he was at least able to function normally in society.

Still, I haven’t found “the dancer”, which I know is in volume II somewhere. I’ll just have to be patient…

Well, we’re through much of the bad stuff, but young dave has not completely processed what has happened to him. I think it takes about a year, if memory serves. He has realized he can’t stay in Portland; too many memories, too many mutual friends who are far less interested in spending time with him in his current state than his ex-wife, and his best friend who has started dating her.

“In another flying casket, this time bound for the city of my intellectual birth, LA. Going to see if an emotionally crippled genius can pass himself off as human, without “throwing up on an interviewer’s shoes”. I’m not so sure it can be done.”

He blows the interview, I know, but I haven’t gotten that far yet.

I’ve flipped ahead to page 137, the last page, and I see he hasn’t moved to the Bay Area yet as of the end of Volume II. I’m on page 86. Still, somewhere between those pages is “the dancer”, and I’m determined to get her out of there by reading every page in between. Wish me luck.

This is going to take a while, since it’s pretty tough sledding. Young dave’s wife has moved out, and he’s back on the prowl, only he’s lonely and desperate, and that’s not very attractive.

I’ve gotten to the point where young dave bottoms out. I know it’s not the last time, but young dave doesn’t know that, so he thinks the worst is over. Poor sap.

Now we’re into that phase of revisionism and self-delusion which is kind of pathetic, but I’m sympathetic nonetheless. Young dave has decided to re-invent himself, and start again. If I remember properly, this is the beginning of the most intense creative period in young dave’s life.

I guess you take the good with the bad.

So now we’re solidly into divorce country, and I’ve noticed my passion for reading this journal has fallen off significantly. Still, I’m certain there is wisdom here, and besides, I remember writing some great “tortured artist” poetry during that period.

It’s funny that at the end of Volume I I was so convinced that I would go win my wife back, and yet over the next six months, there isn’t a single entry discussing her. I think I knew in my heart it was already over.

For those of you following this saga, I owe you an update. And thanks, all of you, for the wonderful feedback and encouragement that is the essence of 43T. I can honestly say that without the encouragement, I would not have finished the journal.

So here’s how it ends. Young dave, a mess of emotions and disappointment, flees on a trip to England and Ireland. While there, watching a sunset on the Hill of Slane in Ireland, he sorts out his feelings for his wife, and decides to go fight for her and win her back. By the end of Volume I, September 15, 1990, he has kicked Paul out, and won back his true love.

Old dave knows it won’t last, and I’m not excited about reading the next part (second affair and divorce), but I think I’m through the worst of the blocked memories. At least volume 1 had a happy ending.

I like this kid, young dave. He’s got spunk. Here’s the last entry on the last page of Vol I:

“In the last three years I have done nothing to impress the 14 year old boy I used to be. So be it. This journal, and my entries in it, do no justice to the three years of its writing. And yet here, and nowhere else, is the only real record of their passing. I know now who I am writing this for; I write this not for the 14 year old boy, but for the old man that I am to become. And to you, revered sir, I apologize for the scarcity of the entries and the impetuousness of your youth. I wonder if you can find things in these 158 pages which will make you proud to have been the man I am now. I imagine you will, and I imagine you smiling. I wish only that I could read your journal, as you read mine.”

He’s a good kid, really.

I’m not sure this is going to work. I was reading the ending to Volume 1, and my young self was on his way to England and Ireland on business, but when I flipped forward a bit, I found entries about my (now) ex-wife making out with my roommate right in front of me, and the fact that they were sleeping together. I don’t remember any of this. I’m certain I had blocked out the memories as just too painful.

As I read it, I felt the blood rush out of my face, and became light-headed, so I put the book down. Flashes of memories of the two of them together, unrecalled for almost 20 years, made me feel very sick. I need to get some distance, and I’m not sure I want to read any more of this. I expected fun and laughter, but there is dark stuff in there as well.

Still, perhaps this black oil on my soul could be removed if I understood what happened and learned to deal with it some how.

Hmmm.