Egobrain

  I can trace back this worthlessness I feel all the way back to 3 or 4 years old.  When my parents were busy with my younger sister, the microwave beeped in the kitchen.  The three of  them were in the bathroom so I went to pull out whatever was done cooking.  I grabbed a chair so I could reach the door.  It was a large bowl of chicken soup.  I started to pull it out, but the bowl was too hot for my delicate little fingers so I dropped it all over myself.  The bowl shattered on the floor.  Through all my agonizing torture, all I could think of was that I'd be in trouble for breaking the bowl.  As soon as my parents came to see what all the commotion was about, I was apologizing profusely  in order to try and avoid a spanking.
  I don't know how the feeling of worthlessness started, but during my formative years, there were plenty of things that didn't help me to feel any more worthy.  I noticed that any time my sister would cry she'd only get in bigger trouble until she stopped crying.  The conclusion I drew from that is that crying is a bad thing and so was expressing your feelings.  I also gathered from that that listening to my parents or anyone of authority was the only way to avoid getting in trouble.
  One day, my sister was crying so hard that my mother was furious.  My sister wanted to leave and have different parents.  My mother told her that she could get new parents at K Mart.  My sister stormed out the door and started walking down the road.  I couldn't stand the thought of losing her so I ran out crying and begged her not to leave.  I threw my arms around her and just held on.  My parents got such a kick out of that they were laughing and laughing at us.  From that I gathered that loving my sister (or anyone) was a bad thing and especially expressing that love or any feelings at all.  In fact, I felt that having feelings would only get me ridiculed and belittled.
  I was in kindergarten at that time and there was a neighbor I went to school with, named Rachel.  I got my first kiss from Rachel.  She said I was her boyfriend.  I finally felt that someone valued me.  But when we were at school, she would act as if she didn't know me, especially when she was around her friends.  I was so confused, but she did still want to kiss me when no one was around.
  Around that time, there was a neighborhood boy who used to gather a bunch of us younger boys and bring us to his house.  He made us get into sexual positions with each other.  He got a kick out of watching us do these things that I didn't understand at the time.  I didn't know it was wrong or bad.  When I casually mentioned it to my parents, they told me I shouldn't go to his house anymore.  I didn't, but who knows how many other boys still did?
  It was also around that time that my sister and I were left alone in the family car one day.  The car was at street level and there was a short down hill slope that led to our house.  I'm not sure how it happened, but the car started rolling down that hill toward the house.  The passenger-side signal light smashed into the corner of the house.  The friction from that impact slowed the car gradually enough that neither of us was injured.  We were not in seat belts.  I was sitting in the driver's seat and my sister was in the back.
  There was another time when she and I were left alone in the car while my parents went shopping for some food during a cross-country trip.  My sister was crying because she wanted to be with them.  I tried to keep her in the car because that's what my dad told me to do.  She was so insistent that there was nothing I could do to stop her.  I couldn't leave the car unattended so I stayed in it while she wandered through the busy parking lot and into the store.  I got in huge trouble for that.  I was supposed to keep her in the car.  What if she had gotten hurt or kidnapped?  My dad yelled at me quite a bit for that one.
  My mom never felt the need to explain any of her reasons for anything.  Her answer to any question was, "Because I'm Mommy!"  I quickly learned to stop asking questions.  As a matter of fact, I stopped thinking of questions.  I stopped thinking all together.  I would just follow whatever it was my mom, dad, teacher, preacher or chief would say.
  The point I'm getting to is that I have never found myself.  All I've found is a false sense of self-worth brought about from the manipulations of my ego.  If there was anyone that I could get to like me, feel sorry for me, help me, do something for me, give something to me or even love me, my ego was stroked.  I didn't value that person as a person, but as an ego stroker.  Everyone in my life has either been an ego stroker or inconsequential to me.  There have been so many people who have genuinely wanted a friendship or some other relationship with me, but I've kept them all at bay.  I've only taken from them what my ego wanted to extract, then I was on to the next one.
  I've never given myself anything real.  I've never known how to accept or cherish anything real that anyone else would try to give to me and of course, I've never given anyone anything real.  Kayla has a true, deep, beautiful love to give me, but all I've done is take and take ego strokings from her.  Now that she is in a place where she can't be around me without fear, I find that it's more than just ego strokings I want from her.  I long to let the real her in like I've never let anyone in before.  I long to give myself to her completely and hold nothing back.  She always talks about incorporating someone's preferences and identity into your realm of experience so that you can share their fun times, their tragedies, their triumphs and their love.  I would love to incorporate her likes, dislikes and deepest desires into my experience so that I can finally truly be at one with her in every way possible.
  I'm trying to get to a place where I do more than just know intellectually that we as people are all one, not only with each other, but with God.  That is what Kayla believes and lives by and what I know in my head.  She believes that God wants to experience everything through us.  We are His eyes, ears, fingers, etc.  What's more than that, we are God.  Before we come into the body, we pick out our race, gender, parents, life circumstances and a lot of other things.  There is no such thing as right and wrong, those are just judgments.  Everything that happens is perfect.  We chose for it to happen so that we can experience it.  Nothing happens by accident or coincidence.
  Once I come to a place where I truly, deeply believe this to the core of my being, I will be able to let go of the anger, resentment, hollowness, worthlessness, judgment, hatred, emptiness, self-loathing and ego stroking.  I will genuinely let people in and care about them.  I will love myself.  I will love everybody.  I will treat Kayla like the special, beautiful, amazing person she deserves to be treated like.

What's A Body To Do?

  Today, while I was at work, I pictured in my head some people being squeamish at the thought of having to kill a zombie.  I imagined a conversation beginning with the usual reservations about killing "friends and family".  I thought someone might point out that "they're dead" and someone asking "are they really?"  "Yes, they're walking around, but they're dead."  Someone might ask, "Don't you have any respect for the dead?"  To which, someone will reply, "With all that's going on right now, I don't have much respect for the dead."
  At this point, I came up with a good answer to that statement.  "That's not being fair.  The respect we should have is for the person they were before they died.  That person is not what you see walking around.  That is just their body.  If we always based our thoughts of the deceased upon the activities of their bodies, we'd think they're lazy, cold and smelling of formaldehyde.  Why would we ever respect the dead if all they do is lie around all day in coffins?"
  Of course, the person might ask, "So we're supposed to respect them while we're killing them?"  "We're not killing them.  They're already dead.  We're only laying their bodies to rest."  "We're still committing atrocious acts against their bodies."  "Yes, but that is merely in self-defense.  Every man has the right to protect himself and the ones he loves, whether it is against a living person, an animal or a walking corpse."
  Conversations like this are common in zombie tales.  Many of these stories delve into issues of morality and acceptable human conduct.  The value of human life is a core issue when faced with what looks like a human on the outside, but has no inner humanizing attributes.  It brings to question the difference between us and them.  Is it that we have a soul.  What is the lifeforce that drives us and what is it that drives them?
  My stories try to explore what happens to their souls once disconnected from their bodies.  These are very deeply personal questions for me and I do not pretend to have all the answers.  I believe this is something we should each be asking ourselves and a fictional story is as good a motivator to bring out such introspection as any I've seen.  I've been to school, I've been to church and I've been all around the world, but it is within the context of zombie movies and literature that I have found some of my deepest convictions on life, love, spirituality, heroism, cowardice, betrayal and ultimate redemption.