And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free. John 8:32

My son told me that if there were no guilt in my immediate reach, I would scoop it from the air with a butterfly net. I’m trying to give it up like I gave up religion, but it’s as hard to dislodge as the blood on Lady Macbeth’s hands, and just as imaginary. All those Catholics and Jews out there who think they have the guilt thing roped and tied could take a lesson from the Southern Baptist. I had a mother whose mantra was “let them be children as long as they can” which evidently meant to keep them ignorant of anything happening in the world, and at the same time to terrify them into believing they are going to hell because they breath in and out. When I finally realized I couldn’t meet the ever retreating standard required for heaven, I decided since I was going down there anyway, I might as well have a good reason to burn. On my way to Gahanna fire, I got sucked into the possibility of redemption in the form of a God and Mom approved marriage, which ended up being more like martyrdom than salvation. When Mom died, I finally admitted to myself that I just didn’t swallow the whole concept of Judeo-Christian philosophy. I mean, it’s a set up all the way, but as sales tactic it’s brilliant. You create a need, you make a product, and you convince people if they don’t buy what you’re selling really bad things will happen to them. It works equally well whether you’re peddling toothpaste or eternal salvation. Since Dad died I let go of the last of something that was binding me to guilt thing, but it left a big empty place in my personality that I have been struggling to fill. Gradually, oh so gradually, I am filling that void with truth. The closer I come to being totally honest, the happier I have become. I would say I had an epiphany, but it seems inappropriate under the circumstances.

I tend to walk with purposeful strides toward every goal, usually leaving friends or family trailing well behind. People often follow me because I look like I know where I’m going. Sometimes I lead them into brick walls, or glass windows. I am briefly embarrassed and bruised, but I always get back up, make a course correction, and head out again with equal determination. I just checked my compass and I am disappointed with myself for getting sucked into the undertow of denial again by pretending that I might be able to fix the fatal flaws in my marriage. Maybe it was just the hangover speaking, which certainly feels like God’s own punishment, but is scientifically explainable in much simpler terms; you play, you pay. As far as casual sex, I don’t think I’m capable of that anymore, but I will not preclude the possibility of something discrete and less casual. Of course, it's ultimately not about sex at all, but sex is one of the important readings on the marriage meter, and my gauge is still stuck on empty. The fact that I’m reading the gauge with a flickering torch in the middle of a hurricane should be my more immediate concern. I get it. Did I mention that I found my wedding ring and put it in my jewelry box?