once upon a time, i met a very unhappy fellow named Dagan. to cover his unhappiness, he had created a rather elaborate mythology for himself; steeped himself in esoterica and mysticism. he lived in a world where everything was an omen, a symbol, a sign. and he was obsessed with ‘mattering’ and ‘making a difference’, but in that odd way of talking about and planning and never quite managing to do.
he was going through some pretty harsh times. he used to talk to me about it all and i gave what sympathy and understanding i could. admittedly, it wasn’t much, as there were a good many miles between us and some things cannot be communicated without active presence. add to this, i had my own plate full of struggles and likely wasn’t at my best.
he was going through a painful transition in life. his marriage was on the rocks and he was trying to raise two boys under age five alone. his wife, from all he spoke of, was a self-destructive, borderline personality with a decided narcisstic streak and a penchant for delusional thinking. but even as he would say such things (and more), i could hear the hurt and anger under the lambasting. as much as a man can love, it was obvious that he loved his wife.
it was equally obvious he would not return to her without being pushed at it. i think it had to have been a pride thing. but i didn’t really understand it until today. not that i’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it, but i ran across something today while skimming the internet and a long-lost piece of the puzzle that was Dagan fell into place.
i found his father’s blog. i didn’t realize at first that it was his father’s blog, but then i noted names of brothers and sisters and it dawned on me what i was looking at and reading.
his father has a rather verbose blog wherein he reveals a profound love and support for his favorite son and daughter. a blog in which he speaks at length and well of them. praises them, muses upon the wonderful things they are doing in the world, and every word glows with the unadorned pride of parenthood but, even moreso, with the soft care and genuine love that every child needs and yearns for….
in all the many posts there, there is not a single entry about Dagan. in fact, he is relegated to an almost ancillary space, reference for context in relation to his brother. a name in a list in a story about someone else. not even a ‘best supporting’ role. merely a mention. like a cameo, or someone whose name might be recognized and perhaps should be included, but really isn’t someone you’d focus upon.
and it dawned on me… Dagan has spent all his life living under the weight of the shadow cast by this younger, beloved brother. his obsession with mattering is very easily explained and understood when one reads the entries lavishing accolade and love upon his younger sibling.
in fact, taken in conjunction with the things Dagan told me while i knew him, i sit here and my heart just aches for the things i know he has missed and for which he has, in his own way, tried so very hard… and for which, despite any effort he ever expended, he has (at least to his mind) failed.
i understand now why he is so self-destructive and bitter.
i understand now why he couldn’t understand i wasn’t interested in him ‘like that’.
i understand now why he had to frame it all as manipulation and power plays. they’re all he really knows.
i understand now why he couldn’t accept that my offer to help was just that, an offer to help. no more.
it took me slightly longer to understand that his dreams for the place he’d created online were a wish fulfillment that he didn’t have the courage to do more than talk about. fear of failure is only trumped by fear of success.
what if he pulled it off and his father didn’t change? for that matter, what if he pulled it off and discovered that he felt no differently about himself?
it takes a good deal of strength to shoulder that kind of thing. when you’re as beat down as he is, and busy undercutting yourself and self-esteem at every turn, you’re pretty much impotent. but in all frankness, i don’t think he really needs that site to succeed. he just needs it to be ‘his place’, his little ‘maybe’ that he can push grains of sand around in and feel safe in. and that he has that is a beautiful thing, even if i didn’t understand it at the moment i encountered it and him.
it’s hard to see things like this. harder still to know what you have to do. i knew, intuitively, that the only way to get him back where he really needed to be was to be perfectly ok with being completely misconstrued. i didn’t bother trying to deny or explain. i let him think precisely what he wanted to, because he would never do something good for himself deliberately. the only way he’d ever manage it would be if he thought he was denying himself something helpful.
sometimes, people are just so… odd.
i offered to come to california and help him with the kids until he could get on his feet. i told him that if he was serious about ‘going it alone’, i would help. and it would also be help to me because i was trying to get to seattle and california was a lot closer than where i was at the time.
it had the precise effect i thought it would. within two weeks, he reported to me that he was returning to his wife. naturally i could not express my happiness for him, that would undo all the effort. you have no idea how hard it was to pretend. i’m much better at it than i should be. but it was good in this case; cut the bandages and lift them high and smile to see them fly away, you know?
but it hurts my heart to see that blog. and to know as i know now… in a way i did not know then… where that discontent and ache he so often spoke of comes from. the weight of empathy is crushing. i sincerely hope things have worked out for him and his wife. i sincerely hope they have found common ground and more importantly, solace in one another. i sincerely hope they are kind and caring to one another so they can be kind and caring to their kids.
i hope the chain of missing and ache is broken. forever.