Sunday, February 11, 2018

Dwelling in the Past



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Until I was fifty-three, I spent most of my life dwelling in the past. My childhood had been somewhat difficult with health and family issues. College brought four years of relative calm, followed, upon graduation, by eight-and-a-half years in the convent.

Those years had also proved difficult as I was emotionally immature upon entering. I thought that if I became a saint—which in my mind meant that achieving perfection—everyone would finally find me worthwhile and not desert me. Striving for perfection led to an emotional breakdown toward the end of my convent years. I left, nearly catatonic.

Then came my re-entry into the “secular” world. The Vietnam War raged. I entered the age of hippies and war protest. Between 1969 and 1971, I attended grad school at the University of Minnesota. However, that experience also proved difficult as a depression led to a near suicide. Upon graduation I taught. That ultimately gave way to a career in publishing and in curriculum development.

In my early forties, the third psychiatrist I’d seen since leaving the convent recognized that a ten-year depression had resulted in a chemical imbalance in my body. She prescribed an antipsychotic drug that took away the hallucinating I’d been doing all that time. Because the drug worked, much of the lassitude of my existence disappeared.

Still, the present wasn’t inviting; I dwelt in the known past: on all that had happened to me as a child and in the convent; on my own immaturity; on my inability to be authentic; on how I faked normality, knowing that I felt not only inadequate but worthless.

In 1989, when I was fifty-three, Dulcy, the cat with whom I’d lived for seventeen-and-a-half years, died. She was more than feline; she was friend; family. I grieved her loss and the loss of the unconditional love she’d offered me.

Two days after her death, I woke on a Saturday morning and felt compelled to go downstairs to the computer. Turning it on, I placed my fingers on the keys and began to type. The first words that came were “At the end all that matters is love. My love for my human and hers for me. I have planted the memories of our life together in her heart. She will find them there when I am gone, and they will comfort her.”

My fingers stopped typing, and without understanding, I gazed at the words that had come unbidden. Who was speaking? Not I. Then who? . . . Dulcy.

That day and for one hour each day for the next two months, she remembered—through me—our life together. From some deep place inside me—the place where Oneness dwells—came the story of the loving relationship Dulcy and I shared.

Crown, a division of Random House, ultimately published A Cat’s Life: Dulcy’s Story in October 1992. The slim gift book sold over 14,000 copies and was reprinted in Germany, Korea, Taiwan, and Japan. The event changed my life by lifting me out of my obsessive dwelling on the past.



For years, I’d sifted through the tragedies of my life and found myself despicable. Then Dulcy’s book came to comfort me. Slowly I moved out of the past. I began to see possibilities. All during my life as a teacher, editor, and curriculum developer I’d just lived. I’d never thought of what the future might hold. In fact, I’d never even invested any money so as to have a future beyond retirement. The past was my home. To it I would retire.

Next week, I hope to share with you what happened next.


20 comments:

  1. I find myself sometimes dwelling in the past & sort of berating myself for perceived missteps and mistakes I've made. Doesn't help me in the slightest. I've come to recognise.

    Looking forward to your next post!

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    1. Dear Bea, yes, I know so well the thinking about the past with regret over "missteps and mistakes." It took me years to get past that. I'm glad for both of us that we've finally recognized the futility of that obsession! Peace.

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  2. I loved Dulcy's book and still have it on my shelf. I'm sure she has changed many lives, not just yours. :-)

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    1. Dear DJan, thank you for saying that Dulcy's book touched lives. Her very being, which the book reflects, has influenced my life for more than 40 years now. From 1972 to 2018. Peace.

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  3. Dee, I will have to check out Dulcy's book. We have had cats influence our lives for the last 50 years... some very much so. So I can definitely see how this can happen.

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    1. Dear Rian, Dulcy taught me so much during our years today as did Bartleby who is part of her story. She actually had two books: A Cat's Life and A Cat's Legacy. Aren't we fortunate that felines have been part of our family! Peace.

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  4. Hello, Dee. I so regret the sadness of the first many years of your life; how much better it could have been if anyone recognized your depression. And, I am thankful you want to share some of your return journey with us. Peace.

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    1. Dear Joanne, what I regret is that after leaving the convent--where the depression began--I never quit acting, even when I was in a psychiatrist's office. It was only by a slip of my tongue that the 3rd psychiatrist discovered my hallucinating. Peace.

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  5. Our cat was Simba and he was much beloved for 18 years...:)

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    1. Dear Troutbirder, we are so fortunate: you and your wife had Simba; I had Dulcy and Bartleby. Peace.

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  6. Dulcy sits comfortably in my Kindle waiting to be reread when I need a lift. Thank you.

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    1. Dear Patti, thanks for telling me! I think of Dulcy when I need a lift also. Peace.

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  7. I read Dulcy book a few years ago. what a soft and loving tribute.

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    1. Dear Susan, thank you for your kind words about Dulcy's book. In April I hope to self-publish my convent memoir. I hope that it, too, will touch the lives of its readers. Peace.

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  8. I feel I must read this book. It sounds wonderful.

    I have done my fair share of dwelling in the past, mainly for all the mistakes I made and for what I lost because of those mistakes. I'm not sure I will ever truly stop dwelling on those things, but I have tried to make up for lost time and be a better version of myself.

    I am glad I found your blog. I look forward to the rest of your story.

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  9. Dear Amy, thanks so much for stopping by. Dulcy's book changed my life and it has touched the lives of many others. She has been a great gift to me from the Holy Oneness of All Creation.

    I suspect all of us spend some time dwelling on the mistakes of the past. Letting them go is a great gift to ourselves. When we do that, we begin loving ourselves. I've found that being as gracious to myself as I am to others helps me feel gratitude for my life. Peace.

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  10. A good way to write a book - and for one hour each day for the next two months, she remembered—through me.

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    1. Dear Joe, because of back problems I can't sit long at a computer. Also, I was earning a living. So one hour each day was the limit and it did the trick! Peace.

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  11. Oh, Dee, I treasure my copy of "A Cat's Life" and Dulcy's story. Thank you, thank you - and peace.

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    1. Dear Penny, I'm so glad that you "treasure" Dulcy's first book. There is a second book in which she tells additional stories and I add my two cents! It's called "A Cat's Legacy: Dulcy's Story." Peace.

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