Homeless 0-46: Identity Functioning

deadhead
I’m almost certain I understand what’s happening. Lost home equals lost identity. Just who am I now? And who the heck will I end up being on the other side?

It’s an identity crisis. A crisis because loss of identity shakes foundations, bringing all those comfortably dozing conundrums screaming to the surface. It’s a loss of identity because we humans are deeply influenced by the context within which we live; lose the context and self seems to slip away.

This process might be healthy, like pruning a bloomed-out rose bush. For a while, the bush doesn’t look nearly as rosy. But the trim encourages new growth, producing more blooms.

I’ve always been an overly empathic gardener. I prune too little and consequently work way too hard maintaining old wood. I’m the same way in my personal life. I have too much baggage to simply carry it on. I pay extra baggage charges.

I doubt that anyone ever deliberately commits identity suicide. No rose prunes itself. But once pruned, the old reliable DNA knows how to respond. I suppose the rose screams silently too, when her once proud, now fading blossoms are rudely separated from the mother shrub. And I suspect she wanders deadheaded for a spell in this space between identities.

This might be what identities are supposed to do when they are functioning correctly. They notice the absence before nature replaces what was lost with something at least as beautiful.

©2012 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

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