Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Don't compare me to someone else!

When I was a little boy, and even into my teenage ears, my birth Mother, Betty Kampf, always used to hold me up in a negative way, against Henry Barry, the son of her friend and hair dresser, Cammile Barry.  I ALWAYS fell short of the excellent example that Henry set!  Right!  He turned out to be a draft dodger, he went to Canada to avoid service to my country.  Notice I said; "My Country".  Henry deserted My Country so it is no longer his, even though President Ford gave the Viet Nam draft doggers, this chickens and cowards, amnesty.

Henry grew up in the two parent home.  Yes, his parents did not sleep together and his mother had boy friends, but, he did not know that then.  He was a child of privilege!   His family was well off, if not rich.  His uncle owned a string of Buick dealerships, up and down the East Coast.  I don't remember what his father did, but they were well off.   I did not like Henry.  And I did not like being compared to him and always coming out in third place.

I never did that to my son or my grandsons. I have seen wives try to do this to their husbands!   "Why aren't you like so and so!  He coaches soccer, is president of the PTA, and is this and that."   I actually had a woman try to compare her husband to me, in front of both of us!  I drew her up short! Quickly!!

Two people are not the same.  We are all different!  We all have different experiences, skills, abilities, strengths, weaknesses, and habits.  

In any case, I have always hated being compared to others.  But, some neurologists and other doctors have tried this with me.  I treat them the same!  I let them know that my experiences with LBD are exactly that, MINE!!   What I am experiencing is most likely different than the next person.  Yes, we have some similar experiences.  But even those may be experienced differently or at different times or frequency.

My point is, lost, I suppose.  I was sitting here, alone, living in the past.  I had an urge to call my mother on the telephone, just to talk, be noise, and see how she was.  Then, Henry and how my mother treated me came to mind and I got angry and upset and decided not to call her.  Which is good, because she died in 1991.  But, that fact escaped me for a while.

Now, I am sure some of my fellow LBD sufferers experience the same sort of mental confusion.  But, their's is probably different than mine.  But we all are on this confusing journey, thing to make sense of where we are and where we are going.  Of course, we will never figure that out.  Maybe I should not be left alone at home!  Or, maybe it is good to deal with the emotions of the past.  The founding Commanding Officer of SEAL Team Six, Dick Marcinko, a fellow Slovak, used to say: "Pain is God's way of letting you know you are still alive!"  I wonder if that applies to emotional pain?  If so, my brain is still alive!!

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