There Is No Solution

I finally understand something about myself.

A few weeks ago my mother had a grand mal seizure. It was her first seizure, and there’s a 50% chance it will be her only seizure. She has never had any major health problems before.

The seizure happened to my mother when she was at work. Thing is, she doesn’t like the attention. That’s one of the worst parts of the whole “thing”. My mother prefers to live a quiet, anonymous life.

And that’s more or less a family trait.

My problem is that – as the youngest I suppose – I want attention. I want a lot of attention, and praise, and admiration and all those other things.

But I still want to be anonymous. And private. And unaccountable. Inexplicable perhaps.

(Although, side note, I’m getting sick of people telling me I’m an enigma. I’ve had seven different people from three different parts of my life tell me that in the last month.)

This is an old problem I’m just beginning to understand. Any friend I’ve had for more than a few years could tell you I have a tendency to disappear. You may see me every day for a week and then not hear from me for several weeks.

So my theory is that it’s because I want to be known and I want to be unknown.

There is no solution.