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Finding My Comfort Center

My childhood was spent hiding from my family in general and my mother in particular.  The family was full of alcoholics.  I do not mean heavy drinkers but passed out drunks.  In my early teens, my mother was alone except for my grandmother who lived on the other side of town. All the family had moved away and I was sent to boarding school.  Before I could drive I was taken with my mother either in an ambulance or taxi to the nearest rehab hospital, and then home again when my mother was sober.   

We had money and lived very well during those times when mother stayed sober.  She was very beautiful and a wonderful classical pianist but when drunk she had a terrible temper and did not like me at all.  I grew up never blaming her; but hated the vodka that she consumed by the bottle.  I remember a wonderful Doctor who helped my mother during her rehab time in his establishment.  He sat me down and told me, in no uncertain terms that I would probably follow my mother into this state of anxiety calmed only by alcohol or drugs if I didn’t locate my comfort center.   

I thought everyone lived like this and the consumption of alcohol was abused by everyone.  Among my friends growing up in Santa Monica, they all had parents who drank themselves into a stupor during the holidays, birthdays, and the opening of the racing season.   Even in boarding school, many of the parents would show up reeling.  There were a lot of Hollywood people there and my classmates and room mates laughed it off.  I thank them silently everyday.   It was in my senior year that I found my comfort center that has kept me centered for over 60 years.  

I was able to bring my record collection of Bach, Mozart and Schubert to school and I had my own room where, when out of class, I would read the school library from book to book and listen to my classical music.  I ended up addicted to both.  I will reach 76 this year and live alone with my books and a CD collection with choices of just about everything composed from Palestrina to Rachmaninoff. 

My other added compulsion (addiction) is politics.  When my grandfather was alive he took me through the Constitution and showed me how the Bill of Rights protected all Americans from the government.  Apparently this was not a popular conception of our founders and my involvement in politics has made me very unpopular.  After my divorce, I finally admitted that I did not believe in any God.  I saw Christians break most of the moral laws, ask for forgiveness and go on breaking more.  It was the same denial action that my mother took then she refused to attend AA meetings.  

Politically, it makes no sense for people to complain about government laws and then ask their representatives to ban certain individual habits.  To me social laws come from the States and the Federal Government protects our borders and keeps us safe and out of war.  This is logical and has guided my voting since 1953 when I turned 21.  My going on line proved to be a disaster politically.  My being an Atheist brought me labels like the “Whore of Babylon” and the “Daughter of Lucifer.”  How did I handle this kind of insult?  I have a home filled with books and a collection of Beethoven, Brahms, Schubert and Mozart Chamber Music CDs on top of a large group of DVDs of the Operas performed all over the world. 

I live alone in my comfort zone and wander out to take exercise in the recreation pools and some extension classes offered at the Sun City Rec. Center.  My happiest moments are listening live to the New York Metropolitan Opera broadcast that are found on my satellite radio. I am as close to heaven as I can get. My children are grown and happy.  I’ve given up the discussion forums on the internet as they tend to bring me back to the reality of how humans treat each other.  I’ve given up all my charity work due to my age except one.  My work with Death with Dignity is the final choice that must be open to all who want and need it. 

Back in the 1940s my fortunate meeting with this Rehab Doctor forced me into my own world of reading and music as I was absolutely going through a teenage anxiety horror at the time.  There is nothing wrong with my life as long as I stay in my comfort zone.  I expect to be alone here as is my desire.  The moment I reach out for others, my zone crumbles.  Even trying to explain my hermit life is impossible.    

I see so many teenagers with this anxiety mess in their lives and wish they had this fabulous escape trick that I found for myself.  I’ve tried to work with at-risk teens but they seem inspired to do things through their own anxiety and they seek no help from anyone.  There is no comfort center in their iPod existence.  I’m the lucky one….